Put a Spell on You
by Yaddie
Summary: A Team Fortress 2 story about unrequited gay love, misunderstandings, blackmail, and sex among members of the RED Team. Also contains drunken shenanigans and bare-fisted brawling.
1. Eavesdropping, Apprehension

( _Author's note: When I started writing this last fall, it was going to be a brief leadup to some good, old-fashioned porn. Then a story started to happen, and I went with it. The main focus of this fanfic is gay love, angst, and some misunderstandings, between Engineer and Sniper. Spy also features largely, but the whole team does show up a few times, particularly in the fourth and fifth chapter._ **If you hate teh homogay fanfics, you should probably leave before you hurt yourself.** _Otherwise, read on... special thanks go to my beta reader, Drillbot, and my usual suspect for moral support._)

* * *

Looking back, Engineer realized that it must have started with that phone call in the morning. Not that he was one to eavesdrop on other people's conversations, he told himself- under normal circumstances, anyhow. But when he passed the dreary little alcove where the RED base's one phone to the outside world was housed, he had felt something catch in his chest. Sniper's low voice had taken him off-guard, and the Australian sounded upset. Doing his best to look casual, Engineer kept moving until he was out of sight, and it was only the absence of a pause in the other man's voice that compelled him to linger. He hadn't been noticed, and something about his friend's tone made him concerned.

"Look, I'm really sorry. I know that you always-" Sniper was interrupted by the faint, muffled sound of whoever it was on the line. He started to speak, seemed to choke, then cut in. "No! No, I'm not just lyin' to try an' make you feel better. If things 'ad- I mean, if I were a different person, I would've loved to just settle down and-"

Another interruption. Lurking around the corner, Engineer frowned and tried to deduce the topic of this discussion from what he was hearing.

After a few moments of awkward, muttered apologies and pleading, Sniper finally said something that clarified the situation for Engineer.

"I know you wanted grandchildren, mum! I just- I mean, it's- Mum, you know why I never got a wife and kids and all... don't you? Mum? You've known me longer'n anyone, I- I don't hafta' spell it out for you, do I? Y- Not so loud, please! What if someone- Dad? Look, would you give 'er the phone back-"

Engineer grimaced sympathetically, feeling his face go red. (Dammit, I shouldn't have listened, shouldn't have stopped here, shouldn't have...) He hurried away as quietly as he could, with an awful sense of betrayal gnawing at his chest.

* * *

The day's battle quickly pushed the incident from Engineer's mind. He was too busy maintaining his machines to give it any thought, and the memory was all but lost in the chaos of flying bullets, missiles and body parts. The BLU onslaught was bearing down on them hard for most of the afternoon, driving everyone through the frantic spin-cycle of death, respawn, and a mad dash back to the front line to carry on where they left off. By the end of the day, neither team had gained any ground to speak of, but the frustration of a stalemate was preferable to a crushing defeat. As the REDs shuffled into the mess hall, nobody seemed inclined to offer much commentary on the fight, and even the Soldier sat down to eat without accusing anyone of being a weak link.

"At least dat bitch can't tell us we lost," Scout grumbled, poking half-heartedly at his serving of vegetables. Engineer frowned at him, but felt too tired to berate the boy for his language. When Scout noticed the look on the Texan's face, he rolled his eyes a little. "What? You know it's true, man."

Despite his best efforts, a smile tugged at the corner of Engineer's mouth. "Which part? Yer thoughts on the Administrator, or not losing?" He leaned back in his chair and took a lazy survey of the room, enjoying the concealment of his welding goggles. Seated beside the group's youngest member, Soldier was absorbed in creating an elaborate arrangement of beans and carrots on his mess tray, grumbling feverishly to himself as he did. Either he'd finally lost his shit for good, or his after-dinner art project was some sort of game plan for their next battle. At the other table, Heavy was humoring Demoman with a pointless argument about witches, while the Medic and Pyro started stacking dirty dishes together in an unsteady-looking heap. Sniper had shoved his half-eaten meal away and retreated to a seat by the window, where he was smoking morosely. The RED Spy was nowhere to be seen, which didn't surprise Engineer. (Typical laziness... he's gotta' know it's his night to do the dishes.)

As most of the team left for the common room, Engineer sighed and resigned himself to cleanup duty. He busied himself scraping uneaten scraps and neglected vegetables off plates, only looking up now and then in the vain hope that Spy had come back. Although he found himself completely alone at one point, Engineer eventually noticed that someone else was in the mess- Sniper had returned with two dusty six-packs, and was pounding them back in silence. This struck Engineer as a little odd, since he'd only ever seen the lanky bushman binge-drinking in the company of Demoman. The cyclops did appear a few minutes later, and headed towards Sniper with a cheerful greeting.

"I was wonderin' where ye'd got off to, lad! Why didn't ye say ye were in th' mood for a drink? After the bloody waste o' time today was, I kin hardly-" Demoman seemed to hesitate all of a sudden, and Engineer took a moment to figure out why- it was the look on the Australian's face. He had the demeanor of a stray cat that wanted the whole alley to himself.

Sniper's tone was chilly as he drawled, "Yeah, I'm in th'mood for drinkin'. Drinkin' alone."

The Scotsman looked as though he'd been slapped in the face. His expression bounced around between confusion and resentment, before finally rolling to a stop on uncertainty. "...the hell's wrong with ye, Mundy?"

"I'm sitting here, tryin' to get pissed, and some wanker's interrupted me." Sniper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed hoarsely, lowering his head for a moment. "L- look, mate, I'm in a foul mood and I don't wanna spread it around. Just... gimme some space, alright? I gotta' be alone right now."

Still kind of dazed from the Sniper's rejection, Demoman nodded dumbly and turned for the door. He caught sight of Engineer's goggled stare and a flash of anger started across his face, then faded. The shorter man gave a helpless shrug, and he returned the silent gesture, then left. Engineer abandoned any plans of consoling his sullen team-mate, and took off as soon as his work was done. Sniper didn't seem to notice him go.

* * *

After retreating to his workshop, Engineer's evening continued without incident. No alarm bells went off in the base, and if any squabbles broke out between the other REDs, they weren't loud or violent enough to merit intervention. It was several hours later when the mechanic finally rose from his desk, yawning restlessly. A clattering sound issued from somewhere near the door, and it was only fatigue that kept him from yelping in surprise. After a brief, frantic survey of the room, he discovered the source of the noise; some unseen force had just dropped a set of dirty dishes on the floor. Engineer glared at empty space and headed over to collect them, muttering to himself. "That damned Spy... I'd better take these away, the last thing I need is rats settin' up camp in here."

As he walked into the mess hall, Engineer noticed something slumped amongst the empty beer cans on the table. It was Sniper's hat, with the rest of the man holding in loose formation, half-draped over the flat surface and snoring drunkenly. He set the dishes on the counter, then approached the sleeping figure with a mix of concern and trepidation. A firm hand gripped Sniper's shoulder and shook the man gently, trying to rouse him to the point he could leave the mess hall.

"Hey... c'mon, stretch," Engineer said, and gave Sniper a brief, more jarring shake. "Can't spend the night passed out in here, or you're gonna' catch hell come morning. ...wake up, y'hear?" He felt a little bad as some more extreme measures for removing the marksman came to mind, but before Engineer had to resort to punches or a bucket of cold water, Sniper finally stirred.

"Where th'fuck am I? Who's- oh... Whattya doin' 'ere?" Sniper groaned and pawed at his face as he started coming to his senses. He was clearly drunk off his ass, but his earlier stony demeanor had crumbled into something dangerously close to maudlin. Squinting at Engineer through his smudged yellow aviators, he seemed shaky and strung out. "...izzat time t'go?"

Engineer sighed and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Yep, it's closin' time. Time to go home. Yer lookin' pretty rough, boy, you need help gettin' to your feet?"

The tall man growled and started struggling to an upright position, scrabbling for purchase on the tabletop with his unsteady hands. He emitted a sickly sounding belch as he stood up, and hung onto the edge of the table, white-knuckled, pressing the back of his gloved hand against his mouth. Engineer was suddenly unsure if the man's knees were going to support his weight. He gave a dismal moan. "Aw Christ, truckie, I feel really sick..."

This was exactly what the Engineer hadn't wanted to deal with. He sighed and reached across Sniper's back, trying to grab onto the rangy fellow as best as he could, then hooked one of the long, tanned arms over his shoulder. "Think you can keep it down 'til we get you to the head?" Engineer asked, preparing for the worst. When Sniper nodded weakly, he decided to take his chances, and the two of them made a clumsy exit from the mess hall.

* * *

The shower room was empty when the mismatched pair staggered in, Engineer struggling to keep his taller companion upright. Sniper lurched from his grasp and made a beeline for the nearest toilet stall, where he toppled forwards onto his knees, leaned over the ceramic bowl, and began to puke. Engineer sighed wearily and tried to tune out the unpleasant sounds of his team-mate throwing up. After a few moments, he steeled himself and took a glance at the open stall; he could see Sniper haphazardly gripping the toilet, his whole body shaking with each spasm of nausea. It was a miracle the man's Akubra hadn't fallen off yet. Feeling a pang of guilt as he remembered the morning's eavesdropping incident, Engineer shuffled over and removed the hat, then put a steadying hand on Sniper's shoulder.

"Just try not ta choke, o- okay? You'll feel better when it's over," he said quietly, keeping his gaze focused on the hat he'd rescued. It was cleaner than anything else in the bushman's vicinity.

Sniper gave a wet cough, and tried to catch his breath as he sagged in Engineer's grasp. He turned to glance back at the Texan, who cringed; the expression on his vomit-streaked face was one of crushing despair. "Naw, mate, it's... it's pretty bad... don't think'm gonna feel better anytime soon..." Before his friend could answer, he hung his head over the toilet again and regurgitated the last of his supper.

Doing his level best to ignore the mess, Engineer grimaced and rubbed the Sniper's back; a twinge of irritation crept through him as he wondered if the situation was exceeding even his patience. Then he found himself thinking of that phone call again, and his heart sank. (Oh Lord, no. I can't ask him about that.) Engineer could feel his face heat up with embarrassment, and he felt horribly certain of what must have transpired between the other man and his estranged family. In retrospect, putting up with Sniper's moodiness didn't seem so taxing after all. "Take it easy, now, it's been a... uh, it's been a long day. You don't gotta' pull yourself together right this second. Just breathe."

"Dunno what the hell 'm gonna do, mate." Sniper's voice was slurred, but he seemed to be regaining his faculties. He spat, then flushed the worst of the filth away and began a clumsy effort to wipe his face off. "...really done it this time, 'aven't I..? I'm a proper bloody disgrace. God, they're never gonna speak t'me again..."

Engineer didn't know if it was better to pretend he hadn't understood the man, or to try and urge him to open up about what had happened. He gave Sniper's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, then started tugging him in the general direction of the sinks. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up a little. I- I dunno what's botherin' you, but if you need ta talk about it, I'll- uh, I won't judge..." Sniper groaned and wobbled to his feet, then clutched at Engineer's bicep for support and let himself be led away from the toilet stall.

Sniper slouched against one of the sinks and turned on the cold water, let it fill his cupped hands, then slopped it onto his face and made a sputtering noise of shock. He pried his glasses off and rinsed them as well, somehow managing to soak his shirtfront in the process. After a moment of spitting and cursing, he closed the tap and let his head sag, dripping water everywhere. Engineer's supporting hand was at his shoulder again, and Sniper finally mumbled some words of gratitude for the little guy's help.

"Hey... that's what friends are for, ain't it?" Engineer smiled bashfully and fished a clean rag from one of his pockets, then pressed it into Sniper's hands. As the Australian dried off, he gave a long, low sigh of relief. Maybe talking things over would help, but the drowsy look in Sniper's eyes seemed to suggest that it was something better saved for when he was rested and sober. "Alright, stretch, I think it's time to get you to bed. Your room's the one in here that never gets used, right?"

His answer was rambling and kind of unclear. "Usual, usually sleepin' in... me van's out back, but I... ...aye, thassa better idea. Sleep there." Using the short, stocky Texan as a means of support, Sniper pulled himself to an upright position and draped himself across Engineer's shoulder.

* * *

They moved less frantically than before, and after a short, unsteady trip down the hall, the pair was at Sniper's room. With the man's habit of living almost exclusively in his camper van, his quarters in the base had become sort of a storage annex to Engineer's workshop, but there was enough floorspace clear of disused dispensers that they could reach the bed. Engineer led the taller man into the room and let him flop down on the bed, then dragged his legs up onto it as well. While he was rooting around for a blanket or at least a sheet to cover him with, Sniper rolled onto his side and grumbled incomprehensibly, then closed his eyes.

There was a dusty bedroll wedged behind a box of spare parts, and Engineer shook it off before returning to his friend's bedside. He had assumed that Sniper was asleep, but when he leaned over to lay out the impromptu comforter, a long arm suddenly wrapped around his back and pulled him down onto the mattress, pressing his face into the crook of Sniper's neck. His accoster then gave a whimper of affection, and began to snore.

His heart skipped a beat. "Woah, what're ya- ...Sniper? You listening t'me?" It only took Engineer a moment to realize the other man really was asleep this time; he sighed, his breath hot and muffled by Sniper's collar, and gently extricated himself from the bushman's embrace. (That could have been worse,) he thought, making a hasty exit from the room.

* * *

Engineer could feel his face burning as he walked down the hall; his pulse was pounding in his forehead, threatening to mature into a migraine.

"Must be losin' my mind," he muttered, shaking his head. A whiff of cigarette smoke tickled the back of his throat and he stifled a cough. "I better head outside for some fresh air, or I'll never get to sleep..." The battlements seemed like a good place to cool his mind, to let his feverish thoughts evaporate so he could shrug off the specter of insomnia and have a good night's rest.

The desert night was cold and clear, and Engineer could see his breath fog as he peered up towards the heavens; the milky way was a gauzy smear across the sky, glistening, pulsating, each star like a droplet of cosmic seed... Engineer pushed his goggles up, then rubbed his eyes and groaned wearily. (Just stop thinking about it. It'll go away, I just gotta' work at it harder.) The day's events were stewing in Engineer's mind despite his best efforts, bubbling up in new, unexpected ways. He drew in a deep breath and slowly released it, hoping the air's numbing chill might shift his mind to a lower gear. He didn't want to be wound up like this, to be dogged by thoughts he never wanted, and questions he could never ask. (Mundy won't even remember this in the morning, right? And even if he does, he'll never know what I heard. I don't hafta' ask him, he doesn't have to tell me. Doesn't have to know that I've been there. Doesn't have to know the things I've been...)  
"Ze night is a beautiful one, isn't she?"

Spy's intrusion onto the scene had one positive effect on Engineer: it completely derailed his runaway train of thought. He stopped staring at the sky and gave a yell of surprise, turning about on the balcony in a frantic attempt to spot the masked man. "What the hell're you doin' here, Spy?"

He was smoking and perched on a wooden crate, long legs draped over either side, and the point where three planes meet jutted obscenely from between his thighs. "Oh, just enjoying ze local scenery... Ze great panorama of ze night sky, laid out before us in impeccable detail... zis far from city lights and car exhaust, 'e has a clarity you could never appreciate elsewhere."

"Ah'm sure you weren't just stalkin' me, right, boy?" Engineer frowned, folding his arms across his chest. The night air was suddenly a detriment to his mood; his limbs felt rigid and tight from the cold, discomfort compounded by the irritation of knowing he'd been watched. A hand seemed to plunge into his bowels and gave them a good, hard twist. (How damn long has he been following me?) Doing his best to stay composed, Engineer sighed hoarsely and added, "...huh, you're a regular Gerard de Nerveau."

"Nerval," Spy sniffed, correcting him even as a smile played across his lips. "Since you are so trusting, labourer, I will share with you a line of 'is writing. Listen, now... 'Voici le verseau d'o se pr cipitent des flots de lumi re; mais Orion contemple la ceinture et non le verseau.'"

The Texan cleared his throat and continued frowning, wondering if this was some kind of secret message, or if Spy was just being a smarmy bastard. "You'll hafta' forgive me, I only caught about half'a that."

Spy waved one hand dismissively, leaving ghost-trails of smoke with the cigarette pinched between his fingers. "It is nothing important, mon ami, zat was just 'is translation of a sonnet by Gottlieb." He chuckled faintly. "I was reminded of ze 'unter Orion, when I observed you taking our own lofty bowman to 'is room. 'e made quite a mess zis evening, didn't 'e?"

Engineer's frown persisted, along with his standoffish posture. He wanted to be back inside, back in his workshop- or anywhere that Spy wasn't, for that matter. "Look, frenchie... if you've got somethin' important ta say, then spare me the bullshit and start talkin'. ...y'might explain why you were watchin' us, while you're at it."

"Au contraire, labourer, I am merely making conversation! As for ze things I may 'ave observed zis evening, well... I was a little concerned for ze 'ealth and safety of a team-mate, zat is all. You 'andled ze situation so well on your own, though, I was loathe to intrude." He gave Engineer a patronizing smile, and lit a fresh cigarette off his old one. "It was 'eartwarming to see your great devotion to ze bushman, Mssr."

"I dunno how people behave where you come from, but anyone I know would help a friend in need. Nothin' unusual about that at all."

Engineer looked away from the other man and started for the entrance. He definitely didn't want to be up in the battlements anymore. As he started to leave, the Spy spoke to his retreating form, apparently unsatisfied to have anything but the last word. "I never implied zat was odd behaviour, labourer, but I am wondering... would you have any idea what was bothering 'im so much zis evening? Did 'e mention ze source of 'is troubles to you?"

"If he did," Engineer grunted as he left, "What the hell makes you think I'd be tellin' you about it?"


	2. Onesided Closure

( _Author's note: aspects of this story have been toned-down in accordance with rules; if you're desperate to see the un-edited version, it can be found at y-gallery, where my username is also Yaddie, and at my tumblr, helpmejesus dot tumblr dot com_)

* * *

The next day, breakfast in the mess hall was fairly uneventful- at least, for the brief period of time Engineer was there to observe it. He was leery of being hassled again by Spy in front of the others, for Sniper's privacy as much as for his own, so he only stuck around long enough to wolf down some toast and grab himself a cup of coffee. Nobody stopped him in the hall, and he drank his coffee in the solitude of the workshop with only his thoughts to bother him. Unfortunately, he knew it would be a few hours before the team would be called on to fight, and that was more time for brooding than Engineer really wanted. Putting his mind to other things proved difficult, though. He found himself poking aimlessly at a stack of papers, when a knock at the door caught his attention.

"C'mon in," Engineer said, glancing up. He felt his face go red as the door opened and Sniper trudged in, looking disheveled after the previous night's mishaps. Trying not to sound as awkward as he was feeling, he cleared his throat and did his best to act like everything was normal. "Hey there, slim. What brings you here at this hour of the morning?"

Sniper's face was obscured by his aviators and the shade from his hat, which Engineer found to be a guilty relief. He felt more comfortable knowing less about the man's emotional state. After a moment of faltering dumbly, Sniper found his voice; he sounded like he'd been through the wringer. "I just, er- I just felt I oughta thank you. Y'know. For puttin' up with me last night."

Engineer found himself doubly grateful for his own habit of wearing goggles- they made it easier to hide his expression, which was doubtlessly sort of stunned right now. "Oh! Well, I... it wouldn't have been right to just leave ya there, y'know? ...d'you remember much?"

A rumbling sigh was Sniper's initial answer, and he pushed the door shut behind him, then found a seat on a crate before speaking again. "More'n I'd like, to be honest." He tilted his hat up for a moment and massaged his temples, grimacing in pain. Sniper's face was drawn and unshaven, but he'd apparently found a change of clean clothes somewhere, and may have even showered- Engineer couldn't smell him from where he was sitting, anyhow. "Can't recall everything I said, but you probably oughtn't think about it too hard. I wasn't thinking straight. Probably wasn't making any sense."

"Nah, you didn't say anything too strange. ...ah mean, you were pretty drunk, but it didn't sound to me like you were confessin' a crime or anything like that. Just rambling about somethin'-or-other." Engineer shrugged and managed a benign smile, pretending it wasn't anything to be concerned about. Blinking owlishly at him from behind tinted lenses, Sniper nodded slowly and seemed to sag a little.

"Right, nothin' like that. Good, that's... it's good t'know." He rubbed his forehead again and sat quietly for a few moments, looking at his feet.

Engineer found the silence uncomfortable, and wondered if the marksman was waiting for something to happen. He also wondered if he should say any more on the matter himself; if his suspicions were right, discussing it further could open some fresh wounds, but he was also guiltily aware that his own trepidations were keeping him from helping his friend. (Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it's not what I think at all, and I'm getting worked up over nothing. If I can figure out a way to ask him without giving anything away, that'd save both of us some trouble, wouldn't it?) Just as he started mentally rehearsing his next words, Sniper spoke again.

"Look, I- maybe I don't remember things right, but I think... didn't you say that if I needed to talk, you'd lend me an ear?" Engineer nodded, and swallowed audibly. Sniper took his aviators off and pressed his fingertips against his eyelids, then took a deep breath. "Your me best mate here and I don't wanna'- don't wanna' horrify you, but I need to talk to someone, someone I can trust not to... nngh, to do anything worse than be disgusted by me."

He gave a shaky sigh and buried his face in his hands for a moment; Engineer was strangely terrified that he had started to cry, but realized after a moment that he was just trying to steel himself for some sort of confession. It didn't help much that the American was pretty certain about what it was going to be, even though a sense of dread was tightening around his throat for different reasons than what Sniper was probably imagining. Engineer didn't feel disgust for the man, but familiarity with his pain, with the awful thing that neither of them could admit to himself.

Sniper lowered his hands, finally revealing his face to Engineer; his small, hawkish eyes were rheumy and dark-ringed from fatigue, not to mention the hangover he was suffering. The expression on his face, however, was sane and sober. "I rang up my mum the other day, to- y'know, have a chat, let 'er know I'm still alive and well. Don't talk much with either of my parents 'cos they don't agree with our line of work, but they... she still cares for me. I'm their only child. Dad had a lot of hopes an' dreams lined up for me when I were young, and I reckon I prettymuch failed at livin' up to all of them. ...mum were never demanding, but- Christ, you know what mothers are like, truckie? 'ere I am, heading on forty, an' she's got nothin' to show for 'er work of raising me except letters and a couple souvenirs." Now tears threatened to start from his eyes, and he paused for a moment to grimace, to wipe them away until the moment passed.

Engineer was still fraught with anxiety and his own sense of self-denial, but compassion for his friend was finally winning out over the mores and stubborn stoicism that had prompted so much guilty inaction from him beforehand. He rose from his desk and approached Sniper, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Say what you gotta' say," he said softly. "I ain't in a position to get judgmental."

Even bleary with emotion, Sniper's gaze was sharp as a diamond; he seemed to hesitate for a long moment, scrutinizing Engineer's face for any hint of impending betrayal. He frowned pensively and bit his lip, then continued. "So I'm talking with her about this and that, and she starts askin' me The Question. Y'know the one I'm talking about... 'why aren't you married yet?' 'when are you gonna settle down and raise a family?' 'who's gonna run the family farm when we're too old to?' That sort of thing. It's not like I- I mean, I never wanted to make 'er unhappy. Not like I never looked at women, or thought about marriage. But blokes like me aren't..." He trailed off for a moment, frowning. "I'm not suited to it. Me work's not right for it, and- and I'm not right for it. ...agh, I don't even know how to say this!" Sniper tensed up and put a hand over his face, scowling, dumb with frustration.

If he was wrong, Engineer knew, he was probably in for a black eye- or worse. But every fiber of his being was telling him he wasn't. Quietly and calmly as he could, Engineer spoke. "You're a queer?"

Sniper stared at Engineer, wide-eyed, his mouth slightly ajar with shock. The surface of his face was still, but behind it a storm of emotions was raging, too powerful to be contained for long. The Texan squared his jaw and prepared for whatever was about to come; he was twisted with angst inside, but he knew that if Sniper was a true friend, something like this wouldn't tear them apart for good. A flurry of movement made him flinch in surprise, long arms suddenly lashing out towards him, but he didn't back off- he had more pride than that. Then he felt the pressure of Sniper squeezing him in a desperate bear-hug, felt the other man's face buried against his shoulder, felt hot tears soaking through his work shirt. The smell of cigarette smoke burned at his tonsils. Sniper gave a shuddering sigh of relief, then went silent aside from the faint, choked sounds of his breathing.

Engineer sagged against Sniper and wrapped an arm across his shoulders, gently patting the back of his neck with a free hand. "There, now... You take all the time you need ta pull yourself together. I'm here for ya."

They didn't say too much after that, but the effect their conversation had on Sniper was almost tangible; even looking sad and sober as he did, his demeanor was one of overwhelming relief, like an inner tube that had burst under overwhelming pressure and was lying crumpled in the aftermath, deflated but intact. On the other hand, Engineer felt emotionally divided- while he'd managed to bring his friend the comfort and reassurance that was desperately needed, and reaffirmed his own trust in gut instinct, he still couldn't bring himself to confess his own feelings to Sniper. He mulled over the situation, even as he was smiling gently and sending Sniper off with the confidence that his secret was safe. (Maybe later, I'll work up the nerve. Maybe he'll ask why it didn't freak me out to know he's a deviant. Dammit, maybe I'll just stop trying to hide and admit it...)

* * *

After the day's battle was lost and won, after the innumerable bloody wounds were banished to memory by the arcane workings of modern science, and the smoke had cleared from the barren desert where these men's lives were as fleeting as their deaths, Sniper looked down from the battlements and lit a cigarette. Evening was coming on quickly. The sun had started to retreat behind the RED base, and the building cast deep shadows; a black chasm cut across the landscape between Sniper's perch and the battlefield. Even though his instincts told him the battlements were a natural place to have your skull perforated by an enemy sniper, he couldn't look away from the inscrutable darkness just below him. It looked like an honest-to-God bottomless pit.

"Suicide would only be temporary in zis place," said a voice from out of nowhere.

Sniper's whole body twitched, but he managed not to gratify the RED Spy with any other expressions of surprise. "Ain't thinkin' of it," he grunted, frowning through a haze of cigarette smoke. "Just lookin'. ...'ere, why don't you stop hiding so I can give you a shove?"

Spy sniffed indignantly, transforming from a reddish visual distortion to a man in a pinstriped suit. "You 'ave been so moody for ze past day or two, I was concerned you were planning to jump. It would make a terrible mess- for a few moments, anyhow."

"Look, is there a reason you're disturbin' my peace and quiet?" Sniper asked, finally turning to give Spy a nonplussed look. He was starting to feel irritated.

"I don't believe I've been forbidden from visiting zis part of ze base, bushman. I 'ave as much of a right to be 'ere as anyone." He smirked at the other man. In the dim light, his cigarette glowed like a dragon's mouth, throwing the angles of his face into harsh silhouette. Spy took a few steps towards Sniper, still smiling. "As for 'why', I 'ad a question for you... a proposition, I suppose you could call it."

The Australian's body stiffened slightly, a wary animal meeting the gaze of a predator. "You sneaky bastard... what is it? What d'you want from me?"

Spy rolled his eyes dramatically, and gave a drawn-out sigh. "So misanthropic! It is no mystery zat 'alf of ze people you work with can't stand being around you, mon ami. Now 'ear me out, I haven't come to make enemies with you. I simply wish to ensure our... necessities are tended to, hmm? You are a practical man. You are also a man who enjoys 'is privacy from ze rest of zese b tes we deal with on a daily basis."

"Get to the bloody point," Sniper growled. His posture was rigid as before, but he could feel his heart pounding, and sweat creeping down his back. The tasteless mess-hall dinner he'd devoured thoughtlessly was churning in his stomach.

"I know what you are 'iding." The masked man's lip curled slightly as a sound of disbelief escaped Sniper. "Don't blame your friend ze Engineer, 'e didn't tell me. I just 'appened to overhear your conversation."

Sniper lunged for Spy before he could react, clamping a large hand around his throat and smashing him back against the wall. The cool demeanor that Sniper had maintained up until this point had evaporated, boiled away by an upwelling of blazing fury, and he gave his team-mate another slam before leaning in close to the mask. His face twisted with rage, lips pulled back in a wolfish snarl, fangs bared. It took him a moment to find words for the situation. "If you're fuckin' blackmailing me, stop prancing around and t-" He paused, wincing, then spat out the rest of the sentence. "Tell me what you're after."

Winded from the blow, Spy actually gaped wordlessly at Sniper for a few seconds before he recovered his composure. The smirk returned to his face. "Mssr. Mundy, zere is no reason to be losing your temper. As long as we cooperate, I can guarantee ze others will never find out. What I ask in return is nothing zat would effect your work... we are both professionals, oui? It will be a business arrangement of sorts, no more. Now..." He lifted a hand and placed it against Sniper's forearm, caressing the tanned skin with a gloved thumb. "If you would kindly remove your 'and from my throat, we can discuss ze matter in more detail."

The aviators Sniper wore had slipped from their place, and he glared murderously over the dark lenses, breathing heavily. He felt as though he was being torn apart inside, mentally more than physically; his self-control was dangerously close to lapsing. There were a dozen unpleasant things he wanted to say, but he couldn't seem to find his voice, couldn't articulate himself. Spy arched an eyebrow and clicked his tongue impatiently, and that was what did it for Sniper's temper. A rush of adrenaline flooded his body, a burst of energy that spurred him to lift the other man off his feet and bodily hurl him from the ramparts. Spy's wide eyed expression of shock seemed to linger in the dying light, a ghost-image of the man's face hovering before the landscape's red rocks, haunting Sniper like 'The Scream'.

The dull crunch of a body hitting the ground below was telling- Spy was dead, at least for a minute or two. As he came down from the rush of animal fury that had driven him on, Sniper turned back and leaned against the wall for support, feeling sick and light-headed. (What the hell have I done? He's gonna' have me by the cobblers now... Christ, I'd better get to the respawn chamber before he can tell the whole base about this.) Choking down the bile that stung at the back of his throat, Sniper scowled and hurried inside.

* * *

Spy emerged from respawn just as Sniper arrived, looking much less friendly than before. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but before he could get a word out Sniper shoved him back into the room, following right after and securing the door behind them. It felt like Sniper's heart had become a permanent fixture in his trachea, but he did his best to swallow the knot away and prepared for some world-class groveling.

(No,) he thought anxiously as he considered the word. (Not groveling. ...bargaining. Right, that's what I was thinking of. Bargaining.)

The expression on Spy's face was souring as the moments ticked by, and when his patience ran out he grabbed Sniper by the collar and yanked him forwards, striking the Australian hard across the face. "Fils de putain! I come to you with a perfectly reasonable business proposition, and you throw me off a fucking balcony? 'ave you lost your mind?" He gave Sniper another open-handed slap, which seemed to jostle him back to his senses; he stared raptly as Spy continued his tirade. "If I were a less reasonable man, our negotiations would be over! I promise you zat in ten- no, five minutes, I could see to it zat every man on zis base knows about your depravity..." The red mask hovered inches away from Sniper's face, hot with anger and the lingering odour of cigarette smoke. Spy's voice was low and deadly serious as he released the other man, and straightened his tie. "I own you now. You should consider your next words wisely."

"You're- I- I j-just lost me temper, that's all!" Sniper stammered, and immediately regretted it. (Nice going, Mundy, I'm sure you could've done better than that.) The RED Spy appeared to be nonplussed by this explanation, which didn't do much for his confidence. Wringing his hands together, Sniper tried to think of ways to talk the other man down, and did his best to ignore the darkness creeping around the edges of his vision. "Look, mate, h-how 'bout we have a smoke and talk this over, okay? You're, uh, you want me to pull some sorta' favours for you, right? And I- well, I..."

"You don't want to zese men to know you are a 'omosexual," Spy sniffed, reaching into a pocket for his cigarette case. "Come. We will discuss zis somewhere less public." He sidestepped Sniper and opened the door, then gestured for the marksman to accompany him; Sniper did wordlessly, shaking one of his own cigarettes out of its packet and lightning it with an unsteady hand.

* * *

Nobody saw them on their trip through the base, and when they arrived at a neatly decorated room in the dormitory wing, Sniper realized that it was Spy's bedroom. There was no paraphernalia relating to his line of work in here- presumably that was all kept somewhere much more secretive- which left room for a tea-table and some other personal effects. After locking the door, Spy pulled out a chair and sat, then cleared his throat, waiting for his guest to do the same. Sniper stood like a lost child for a moment, dazed and confused, then hastily took a seat across from Spy.

"It seems you 'ave yet to fully appreciate ze situation you are in, Mssr. Mundy. Take your vest off. Out 'ere in ze desert, away from ze comforts of a more civilized setting, per'aps some men would not be so disgusted by ze likes of you. Zis is practically a prison, after all! Why, if you were fortunate, zey might just see you as an outlet for ze..." Spy lingered on that sentence and drew in a lungful of cigarette smoke, watched it hang in the air as he exhaled. "...frustrations a man experiences, when zere are no real women to speak of. Now ze shirt. Remove it. Even if zat were ze case, though, would you honestly want to be objectified by everyone? To be seen as ze designated group bitch? I wasn't making a joke, mon ami- take your fucking shirt off. Ze pants too, while you are at it."

Sniper's awkward hesitation turned to alarm as the Spy's intentions began to crystalize; whatever he had in mind, it was going to be humiliating at best, and painful at worst. Anger surged in his chest, and he found himself glaring at Spy, even as he started half-heartedly unbuttoning his shirt. "I don't trust you one bit, you horrible little wanker. How'm I supposed to believe you won't out me after you've 'ad your fun, eh?"

Ever the chameleon, Spy transformed before his eyes into a picture of bonhomie, of interested glances and a familiar sort of grin. He shivered, even as some part of him was put at ease by this change. "Mon cher, whatever would I 'ave to gain from doing zat? Look at me, you know I am a man of ze world, a man who 'as seen more, tasted more forbidden fruits, than even ze likes of you could ever dream of. Yet 'ere I am, pursuing you." Spy set his cigarette down in the ashtray, then rose to his feet and came closer to Sniper, an alluring smile still playing across his lips. "Why would I be doing such a thing? I know you and ze other men on zis base are satisfied to pull-off and look at dirty pictures, but I 'ave so much more taste and self-restraint." He reached into Sniper's open shirtfront and started tugging the garment down, even before it was completely unbuttoned, entangling the tall man's arms in the process. As Sniper cursed and wrestled with the fabric, Spy pressed a fingertip into the wiry hair over his breastbone, and traced a cool line up until the gloved hand was at his chin, tilting his face to meet its owner's.

"You are 'ere because I want you, you crass, rugged man. Ever since ze first day we fought alongside each other, I 'ave wanted you," he said, his voice husky with desire.

"Jesus flippin' Christ," Sniper whispered, staring over his glasses frames at the shape-shifter, his expression one of utter disbelief. He hadn't been interested in Spy when they first met, and his feelings on the matter were still the same- while the Frenchman was not exactly unattractive, he was a deceitful bastard by his very profession, and even when off the job his behaviour was marked by snobbish secrecy and a disinterest in doing any more than the bare minimum required of him to keep the base running. Even if his flowery story of harbouring an unrequited infatuation with Sniper were true, this was still extortion of the basest kind. Thoughts and feelings surrounding this betrayal were twisting like a knife in Sniper's chest. (Any way I look at it, this is rotten business! Blackmailing a co-worker is low, even for a professional bloody backstabber. What the hell am I going to do?)

Trying to consider his alternatives sent pangs of hopelessness through Sniper's body- the only superior they answered to was the Administrator, and she seemed even more dodgy than Spy. Moreover, explaining his grievances while keeping face would be impossible. (Being a fairy can get you put away back home, and I'm pretty fucking certain it's frowned on here, too.) While the RED company had enough legal heft that local governments politely ignored the organized bloodshed their employees engaged in on a daily basis, it seemed unlikely to Sniper that his employers would care to shelter him from persecution- if they didn't just fire him on the spot. He sagged in his chair, feeling powerless while Spy undid his belt buckle and started unzipping his pants.

(And Spy, that damned Spy...) Whatever his personal feelings for the secret agent were, Sniper knew the man's touch was starting to get to him. It had been so long since he'd been with someone like this, too long for his body to resist temptation and the promise of someone's hot breath against his bare chest. Spy pushed the table away and kneeled before him, then grazed an exposed nipple with his teeth, caressed Sniper's flanks with those leather-clad hands and gave a quiet chuckle as his captive groaned.

"You are... what is ze expression, 'going commando'? I shouldn't be surprised."

"Dunno what the hell you're talking about," Sniper growled and glared at the ceiling, but he was panting now, his body aching with need. The open front of the marksman's trousers revealed everything; Spy grasped him with a hand that was suddenly ungloved, and lovingly teased him with the light touches of fingertips and the edges of manicured nails. "Ah- God, mate, be careful w-" An undignified cry escaped Sniper as he felt Spy's tongue on his sensitive flesh.

Spy was doing unspeakable things with his mouth, wearing away at Sniper's objections to this arrangement- for the time being, at least. As he paused to catch his breath and disentangle the bushman's hands from his shirt, Spy looked up, his face smouldering with arousal. "Whatever 'appened to all ze 'arsh words you were giving me earlier, mignon? Look at me when I talk to you. You will enjoy zis. Hmmmhmhm, I can practically taste ze neglect your body 'as suffered..."

Weak words of dissent started from Sniper's tongue, and died as he looked down to see Spy devouring his length without a moment's hesitation. He bit his lip hard and tried to stifle the noises that rose in his chest, as each bit of movement from the masked gentleman sent waves of pleasure through his body. Spy's hands wandered the sensitive skin of his throat for a while then crept lower, kneading the sore muscles of his back, pinching at his nipples, before tracing a path down his ribs and attending to the marksman's inner thighs. "Hnngh- awfuck, just... lemme off this chair, and, and do whatever it is you wanna' do t'me," he growled, digging his fingers into the arm-rests. "Enough with th'bloody teasing..."

"You are in no position to make demands," Spy murmured, his lips and breath brushing hotly against the other man's exposed skin, drawing forth a shuddering groan from overhead. "Zis just 'appens to be ze first of many things I want to do to you. Mmmmmh, mon cher... I would love to violate every part of you, and make you scream in pleasure as I do. I believe I will..."


	3. The Accident

( _Author's note: as mentioned previously, aspects of this story have been toned-down in accordance with rules; __ if you're desperate to see the un-edited version, it can be found at y-gallery, where my username is also Yaddie, and at my tumblr, helpmejesus dot tumblr dot com_

_The "insanity" Engineer is thinking about was not identified back in 1969, but it is a real condition, usually called "_Body Identity Integrity Disorder_". The cause is usually stroke or brain injury._)

* * *

The windows of Sniper's camper van were conspicuously dark as Engineer approached it, and he felt his heart sink. A peek through the blinds confirmed it; unless the Australian was sleeping on the floor and being very quiet, he wasn't there. Engineer sighed and turned back towards the base, looking gloomy. (Not in his room, not in his van... dammit. And here I was hoping that maybe I'd finally worked up the nerve to-) He grimaced as he entered their headquarters, wrestling with his emotions. (...maybe I'd finally worked up the nerve to tell him.) The only person he passed on the way to his shop was Pyro, whose blank, black stare betrayed as little as Engineer's did.

"Hrr yrr hllnug nnkr?" asked the rubber-suited figure. ...well, sort of sounded like a question. Engineer couldn't understand Pyro half the time, and he was feeling too dispirited to play charades. He waved half heartedly at his masked team-mate and moved on. What the lenses of his goggles could hide, his posture could not, and he didn't feel like explaining himself to anyone right now.

Engineer hoped that work would distract him from his troubles, but to no avail. It would have been an exaggeration to say that everything he looked at reminded him of things he couldn't say, or couldn't accept about himself, but in this case, it wasn't much of one. The simple repair jobs lined up for his attention were the most he could apply himself to, what with the nagging anxiety that was slapping him in the face . From his mind-boggling education to his current employment, Engineer liked to consider himself a man who had total control over himself and his destiny. He knew that some of his predispositions were the result of his upbringing, his environment, and his species, but awareness of those factors meant was he able to act with a clear head.

Usually, this was the case. And when it wasn't, Engineer worried about himself. (I haven't felt this way since my accident,) he thought, reflexively clenching his right hand. That one wasn't real, of course; it was The Gunslinger - a prosthetic he had made, part power-tool, part murder weapon. He built it as a replacement for the hand he was born with. The accident was the reason he needed a replacement, but it wasn't what cost him the real one. He sighed and adjusted the soldering tip he was working with, still thinking about his accident.

He couldn't remember it very well, or most of his recovery in hospital afterwards; it would have been just another workplace mishap, if it wasn't his head that was injured. The back of Engineer's skull was fractured in two places, and it was a week before he came to. The damage hadn't affected his mental capacity, though, for which he above anyone else was grateful, and he was back on his feet and working again in less than a month. It would have seemed like he'd come out of the experience just the same as he was before, except for one thing.

Engineer slouched back against a crate of scrap metal and sighed, tried to knead away the tension headache growing at his temples. Looking back on it now still troubled him. (I never told anyone. It just didn't make any Goddamn sense. It still doesn't make any Goddamn sense. Maybe I went crazy and I just didn't know it... nobody knew it.) Engineer's particular sort of insanity was one he'd never heard of, and none of the journals or textbooks he found could help him understand it at all. He couldn't fully understand the thing that had started to haunt him, he only knew this: he was consumed by the feeling that his right forearm had to go. After a year of soul-searching, research, and even experimentation with mind-altering drugs, Engineer still had no cure for his mental state and no explanation.

It was then that he realized there was only one solution that would work. Weeks of feverish development and testing later, The Gunslinger was complete. Then, with the help of a doctor who also happened to be a friend from his university days, Engineer amputated his own right hand, along with most of the flesh below the elbow. The foundation for his new arm was mounted on the ulna and radius, and once installed, everything worked perfectly. Explaining the change to people wasn't as complicated as he'd feared it would be. The prosthetic could be hidden by an ordinary work glove, so few saw it at all- and most of the people who did knew of his high I.Q. and brilliant scientific work. Nobody would suspect that a genius would give himself a robotic arm for anything other than sane, sensible reasons. Nobody would ever find out the truth.

And now, another uncontrollable, unwavering form of mental deviance was making Engineer question how much control he really had. Not that this was new to him, but for most of his life he'd been able to ignore it. Push it aside as the product of too much idle thought, or too much time spent in the absence of women. Even when he started to work with this team, with Mundy, he'd passed his feelings off as a misguided desire for the man's friendship- and they had become friends, real friends. He gave a despairing sigh, looking back on the time when it was as simple as that. Now it was staring him right in the face, every single time he saw the rangy Australian or thought of their recent conversations. No amount of mental gymnastics or rationalization would cure him of these thoughts; they simply seemed to be a part of his being, just as much as his accent and his love of machines. (But I never chose this! Am I really a free man if I can't control my mind? Maybe... maybe it's just one of those things you don't choose. Maybe the choice comes in what you do with these feelings.) He abandoned his work and flopped down on a dusty armchair, rubbing his forehead. (This is gonna' be a long night.)

* * *

While Engineer was succumbing to insomnia in the seclusion of his workshop, Sniper was losing a battle with another affliction- his libido. He was bent over the table now, face-down, groaning and sweating as Spy dug bony fingertips into his back. His muscles and sinew were like knotted steel cable, slowly yielding to the insistent prodding of Spy's hands, each jolt of pain followed by dizzying warmth that slithered down his spine and fed the growing heat in his belly. Sniper felt like his head was spinning, but despite the overwhelming pleasure he was receiving, he couldn't still the thoughts raging in his mind.

(He could've fucked me and thrown me out by now, if he'd just get on with it. Why the hell is he taking his time? Is he just trying to put me guard down before he pulls something nasty?) It occurred to Sniper that Spy's prose about his exotic sexual conquests and long-running desire for the Australian may have been more than just bluster. Even so, he couldn't feel any sympathy for the infatuated Spy. (If he wanted a shag, I can think of a dozen different ways he could've propositioned me, and none of them involve threats to ruin my life. He knows I hate his guts, but everyone here's bored and lonely. If he'd been persistent enough, I might've even agreed to something as long as there were no strings attached...)

A firm slap on the ass brought Sniper's attention back to his surroundings, and he yelped in surprise. "If I didn't know any better, I would think you're trying not to enjoy zis," Spy purred. Peering back over his shoulder, Sniper could see the chameleon looming over him, naked aside from the red balaclava. Spy's hands had migrated from Sniper's back to his buttocks and were kneading the firm flesh, pausing now and then to lightly rub the cleft of his ass. Sniper pressed his face into his forearm and grunted, sucking in air between his clenched teeth. An appreciative moan came from behind him; Spy was admiring the view, and tormenting his guest with soft, teasing caresses. "Ohhh, mon petit faucon, you are so beautiful like zis... Your desperation is like a fever, you are writhing from ze heat. Whatever could I do to alleviate your suffering, cher? 'ow can I bring you an end to zis torture?"

Sniper growled a reply, but it was muffled and unclear. He could feel a wandering fingertip push inside him for just a second, and a surge of mindless lust gripped him; lifting his head from the table, he snarled, "Stop your bloody yammering and fuck me!"

"You 'opeless romantic," came Spy's sarcastic reply. "Very well, since you asked so nicely... I will give you what you want." A faint, spicy fragrance pierced the fog of sweat, sex, and cigarettes that lingered in the small room. Sniper squirmed impatiently as the masked man dipped his fingers with massage oil, then began the deliciously drawn-out process of slicking his guest's nether regions with the stuff. After a wanton cry escaped him, Sniper bit down on his forearm to muffle any further sounds he might make, and shivered as Spy's fingers slipped inside, gently preparing him. Even though he was hardly a blushing virgin, this was the first time in months that Sniper had someone else's hands on him, and Spy seemed to know exactly what he was doing.

"So," Sniper panted, "Do all you frogs practice anal, or am I in the company of a-" He paused to choke back a whimper; Spy had just found a sweet spot, and his struggle keep quiet prompted the other man to tease him further, chuckling softly. Stars flashed before Sniper's eyes, and before he knew it, he was bucking his hips against the edge of the table as he rode out his climax.

When the world came back into focus, Sniper could taste blood - he'd bit his lip as he came. Behind him, he could hear Spy walking to the bedside, clicking his tongue in a chiding manner. (Serves him right for being such a cock-tease. Bah, don't have to be hard for him to bugger me, anyhow. Maybe I'll get out of here soon, then I can just forget about the whole thing.) He sighed and sagged over the table, stretching his arms behind his head for a moment, then letting them flop down onto the table. "Sorry 'bout that, mate," he grunted. "Couldn't expect me t'hold back forever, could you?"

Spy returned to his guest after a moment, humming quietly. "Perhaps I am a little disappointed, but... I cannot be surprised. You 'ave clearly been deprived ze attentions of a skilled lover for a very, very long time. I suppose you are feeling restless now zat you 'ave found release, but-" Too quickly for Sniper to evade or even react, Spy pounced on the captive and cuffed his hands behind his back. "I'm afraid I plan on keeping you 'ere a little longer."

Raw panic exploded in Sniper's chest, launching his heart into a mad, painful gallop. "Wait, what the fuck are you- lemme go, you backstabbing son of a bitch!" Sniper stood up, shoving the Spy back as he did, then turned to face his host, even as some inconvenient facts were making themselves clear in his mind. He was naked and handcuffed, which put him at a disadvantage for fighting or fleeing the scene. Moreover, he had yet to secure a promise of secrecy from Spy, who was currently observing him with the skeptical smirk of a man that knows he's got the upper hand.

"You know zat you 'ave no way out." Spy approached his guest and seemed to transform again, from cold-hearted captor to lovestruck admirer, the sarcasm melting from his face to expose an expression of intense desire, of heart-wrenching tenderness and animal lust. He softly clasped his hands against Sniper's waist, and leaned in close to the man in spite of his wild-eyed alarm. "...why all of zis panic, mon petit con? Do you think I would gut you? Gouge your eyes out and rape ze 'oles? Feed you poison? I would find no pleasure in zat, and besides, death would take you from my quarters."

"A bloke can live through a lot of things. I ever tell you 'bout the time I spent workin' in Borneo?" He recoiled from the Spy's approach, but didn't really have much room to move. The look on his face grim and distrusting. "...I'm absolutely pos' you know how to make a man wish 'e was dead."

Spy seemed almost hurt, and lifted a hand to the back of Sniper's neck, pulling him in until their noses were almost touching. His gaze was disarmingly soft, eyes half-lidded and smouldering with want. "I know you 'ave no trust in me, Mssr. Mundy, but if my plans for you were something 'orrible you would be bound by more than 'andcuffs." Holding Sniper's head in place, Spy finally pressed his lips against the other man's and kissed him firmly.

A grunt of objection escaped his throat, but... (God help me, that poncy bastard is a good kisser.) The warmth and softness of their exchange sparked a new fire in the pit of his stomach; as Spy turned up the heat with a flick of his tongue, Sniper groaned and pushed back. He felt those manicured hands slip under his arms and dig into the muscles of his lower back, firing off sparks pain and pleasure that left him weak in the knees. Sniper soon realized that he had leaned against Spy of his own volition, and was grinding into him, hip to hip. Muffled sighs and moans filled the room's heady air, and Sniper's apprehension was smothered under the weight of his sexual lust. He didn't care where he was or who he was with anymore; all he wanted was to be pinned down and used by Spy until all of these unwanted urges were drained from his body.

* * *

The handcuffs stayed on until the wee hours of the morning, by which point Sniper was too sore and exhausted to move, let alone try to sneak naked through the base. He lay awake with the RED Spy spooned against him, the hot breath on his shoulder offering little comfort as his mind returned to the situation he was in. Walking stiffly was the least of his concerns; he felt cheap and debased for letting Spy coerce him, and for giving in to thoughtless desires. Sniper frowned in the darkness and struggled to understand his feelings. (Alright, so I got blackmailed. That pisses me off. I also got laid, that... would bother me a lot less if it were under other circumstances. I've done things some people'd call immoral before, sure, but not against my own bloody will. Not like this.) Somewhere in the winding labyrinth of his thoughts, he found the realization that his pride, over anything else, was the wellspring of the pain he felt. He groaned and wished that sleep would spare him from further brooding, but it seemed like hours before he finally sank into a restless slumber.

* * *

When morning came, he found himself alone in Spy's room, still covered in the telltale signs of their engagement. The last thing he wanted was to show up in the mess all scratched and bitten and sticky from sex; clearly a shower was in order. His clothes were still where they'd been discarded on the floor, so he gingerly squirmed into his pants and shirt, and stepped out into the hall, donning his glasses. (With luck, everyone's at breakfast right now. Hopefully they'll be gone by the time I'm done, and I'll duck in to grab some coffee-)

A voice caught his attention, and he turned to stare at the speaker, feeling his face burn with shock and embarrassment. "S- Sniper?" It was Engineer, who looked roughly as mortified as he probably did.

(Oh God, does he know whose room this is? He's got to know it's not mine.) Sniper quickly closed the door behind him, and tried to play cool. This turned out to be a colossal failure on his part, as he couldn't even find his voice for a few seconds, let alone keep it steady. "Oh- er, I... g'morning, mate. Didn't think you, uh... you slept in, too? I just... I had ter steal some of Spy's smokes, I've run out..." It was a pretty lame cover story, and he immediately felt like a shit for lying to his friend. Engineer seemed a little reassured though, which was a bitter sort of relief.

"Ohhh, that's why- ...I just didn't expect t'see you sneakin' around, that's all." The Texan grinned sheepishly and shrugged, still looking sort of awkward. "Listen, I, uh..."

"Hm?" Sniper fought to wipe the stupid expression off his face, and fidgeted a little. He felt sore and dirty from what he'd been through the night before, and while he didn't want to just blow off a conversation with Engineer, that shower couldn't come soon enough.

Something tugged at Engineer's features, and he suddenly looked away as though reconsidering. "Never mind, I uh, I forgot what I was gonna' say. ...catch you after the battle, stretch."

The marksman's guts tightened uncomfortably. "Right, I'll... see you later, truckie." He managed a smile for Engineer as the little guy moved away, but those goggles made it hard to tell if it did any good. When he was gone, Sniper turned in the other direction and trudged off to the shower room, his head spinning with terrible thoughts.

* * *

(The heat of battle is the wrong place to let your mind wander,) Engineer told himself. It was becoming his mantra as the day wore on and his focus waned, like a long-haul trucker feeling highway hypnosis set in. He hadn't made any catastrophic errors yet, but not for lack of trying, honestly. If his machines weren't so important to the team's success, he wouldn't have had the benefit of anyone watching his back.

The crackle of a spy decloaking nearby escaped Engineer's notice; he was too busy reliving the moment he'd seen Sniper in the hallway. (I should've at least said something. Maybe asked if he had a moment to talk. When in the hell am I gonna tell him...)

"You are making yourself a sitting duck, labourer," said his team's Spy. "Is zere a reason for your inattentiveness, or are you just asleep on ze job?"

Engineer was looking down the sight of his shotgun before he realized the interloper was wearing red. He was tempted to shoot anyway, but the BLU team's spy wouldn't have stopped to chat. He would have backstabbed Engineer and snuck away laughing to himself. "Dammit, Spy! What're ya doin' here?"

"Ensuring ze success of our team by safeguarding vital equipment - ze same equipment you should be looking after on your own. What 'as you so distracted?" Spy was frowning, but there was a weird hint of smugness to his demeanour. "If I did not know any better, I would say you were daydreaming or lovesick."

"Alright, I get it. I gotta' pay more attention." Engineer grimaced and lifted his helmet for a moment, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Now would you mind yer own damn business and get back to work? There's a whole lotta useful things you could be doin', and none of them involve standin' around here and pesterin' me."

Spy sniffed. "If you are certain you can pay attention from now on, I-" He suddenly went rigid with pain and gave a death-cry, clawing uselessly at the air before collapsing. Engineer jumped back and yelled, unloading his shotgun at the masked man who had just appeared behind Spy- his BLU counterpart.

"Crisse des Rouges," he grunted, sneering at Engineer even as he clutched the gaping wound in his side. Pink coils of intestine were trying to slither out between his fingers, slicking everything around him with blood. "Dat Goddamn phony won't be here next time to take da hit for you, maudite..." Engineer fumbled to reload as the BLU Spy vanished into thin air, but his cloaking device couldn't hide the gore he was leaving behind, and another shotgun blast left two dead spies on the ground.

On a normal day, Engineer would brush off this sort of incident and get right back to work. As the corpses vanished, though, he found himself completely rattled and on the verge of fainting. It was bad enough that his unresolved anxieties were keeping him up at night, but nobody was going to backstab him in his workshop - out here, on the other hand, he could lose more than sleep by letting his mind wander. He could lose his life (albeit briefly) and his buildings, and that could cost his team the match. Hoping that nobody else would stop by to ask questions, he sank to the ground beside a half-built sentry and breathed deeply until the feeling passed. (Lord help me, I must be losing my mind. I've gotta do something about this before I really screw something up.)


	4. Red Team's Night on the Town

( _Author's note: Bishop, California is a real place; I chose it mostly at random, and because I remembered the name. While I was researching it, I found out that, starting in 1969, they have a "Bishop Mule Days" festival every year. This seemed funny to me, so I included it as well. Sawney Bean is a famous cannibal from Scottish folklore, and the "Christie" that Demoman is talking about was probably Christie Cleek, another British isles cannibal. _

_Although the focus of the story was largely Engineer and Sniper, I wanted to do what I could to include the rest of the gang. Writing drunken shenanigans with the team was an extra bonus._ )

* * *

The next few days were uneventful, at least as far as Sniper's personal troubles went. He did his best to make sure of it. He avoided Spy right out; just seeing the masked man made him feel sick and anxious, as though he could be ambushed with another 'business proposition' at any time. His conversations with Engineer were restricted to topics surrounding their work, although the Texan also seemed to be steering clear of personal discussions. Even so, most of his spare time was spent alone. His van was parked where any member of the team could show up to hassle him, but searching the RED base and surrounding landscape for new vantage points had left him with a long list of hiding places to choose from, and he managed to keep busy there with books and cigarettes.

When Friday's battle ended in a spectacular rout of the RED team, he found himself shuffling out of the respawn chamber with the rest of the team, all of whom had little desire to spend the rest of the evening listening to Soldier. The fact that Soldier was among them helped to solidify this sentiment; the man saw himself as de facto team leader, and he could be a catalyzing force when the REDs desperately needed a push to victory... but he was a very vocal sore loser.

This time, Scout had been singled out as the culprit behind their defeat. The kid had set off in pursuit of his BLU rival at a crucial moment, leaving Soldier and Pyro to hold the point. When a .308 Winchester emptied Pyro's brains out the back of his mask, Soldier alone couldn't fend off the enemy Heavy and Medic who showed up on his doorstep. "ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME, MAGGOT? If you hadn't run away to toss balls around with your little friend, we'd be playing a DIFFERENT tune right now! A VICTORY TUNE!"

"Would you back the fuck off, man? I was fightin' just as hard out there as them faggots, an' I don't see you pointin' fingers at anyone else! Shit! Where the fuck were fatty and the Doc' when you got ganked?" Scout was somewhat justified in his defensiveness- it was impossible to honestly blame one person on the entire team's loss. The shouting match outside respawn wasn't helping anyone's mood, though. Everyone else seemed to be scoping out escape routes that wouldn't draw any attention to themselves.

Soldier wasn't much taller than Scout, but somehow managed to loom over him anyways. "I will hand out criticism WHEN, WHERE, and in the ORDER IT IS DUE! Pursuing personal grudges against members of the other team is tantamount to abandonment of your post, private! WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?"

Scout wrinkled his nose and repeated Soldier in a weird voice. "Hut do oo have hoo fay for oorhelf? Hey, I know what I got ta say for myself- fuck you!"

Below the din of arguing, Medic sighed irritably and pinched the bridge of his nose, then said, "I heff an order to pick up in zer town, alle, you are velcome to maim yourselves in my absence." He lightly shoved Heavy to get the Russian's attention, then turned to go.

As they started to leave, Demoman snapped out of his drunken haze and grabbed Sniper by the shoulder, tugging him along to follow. "Oi, th' Doc' says 'e's goin' te town! C'mon, let's hitch a ride an' go drinkin'."

Sniper only took a split second to decide this was the best course of action, and started alongside Demoman. "Right, good call."

Medic suddenly realized he had tag-alongs following him and Heavy. He groaned, opening the door to the parking garage. "Herr Demoman, I haffen't forgotten ze mess you made of my sick wagon last time..."

The Scotsman sidled up beside Medic and snapped one of his shoulder straps. "Ach, don't get your panties in a knot, Doctor. If anythin' happens, I kin hose it out again, just like new."

"Yes, about zat creatif method of sanitizing my workspace..."

A quiet grunt escaped Heavy as something came barelling after the group and crashed into him. It was Scout. He peeled the younger man off his flak jacket and set him down, arching an eyebrow. Scout's dazed expression faded, and he immediately started to ramble.

"Oh holy fuckin' Christ, you guys have gotta' take me with you! I don't care where the fuck you're goin' but I am this close to shoving a fuckin' grenade up Soldier's ass and kickin' it so hard it goes off in his throat, that guy does not know when to shut his Goddamn mouth and mind his own shit, I mean, fuckin' seriously! Where the fuck does he get off actin' like he's my boss, he isn't the one who hired me, don't the rest of you guys think he's the biggest motherfuckin' asshole on this whole-"

"Vhere is Soldier now?" Heavy and the others were nonplussed. The thought of Scout's big mouth coming along for the trip was unappealing, but more lecturing from Soldier would just plain ruin things. If he was in pursuit, going to town wouldn't shake him- he'd probably chase after Medic's ambulance, yelling the whole way.

"Uhh... oh, Engie's talkin' him down. I swear, that guy's the only person who can stand Soldier, I dunno if he injects him with valium or what, but-" Scout was interrupted by one of Heavy's gigantic mitts clamping over his face.

"Good. Now be quiet, or I strangle you."

The rest of the interlopers were piling into the back of the wagon, which was nearly devoid of medical equipment and thus had plenty of room. Scout stopped punching Heavy's wrist and nodded, making a muffled sound; when he was released, he scowled at the big man before scuttling off to join the others. Pyro came toddling in by the same route everyone else had taken, and scrambled into the vehicle before he could be left behind. With a full cadre of lunatics now tagging along, Medic seemed dubious about the evening's prospects, but he took his place behind the wheel and started the engine. A faint smile tugged at his face as Heavy wedged himself into the passenger seat, causing the whole van to lurch.

"Doktor, how ve bring your package back vith all these tiny fools along?" Heavy asked in a sotto voice.

Medic waved a hand dismissively. "I vouldn't vorry about zat. It's not very big, mein schatz, just heavy. Besides, ze sooner I can start exposing zem to it, ze sooner I'll be able to start measuring its effects."

The Russian nodded tentatively, unsure if he should ask for more information on that package. He glanced over his shoulder at the crowd in the back and took a head-count. Everyone aside from Scout was seated on the floor, leaning against the walls or each other. Demoman was regaling Sniper with a story about someone named Christie, to which Pyro also seemed to be paying close attention. Scout was still following Heavy's order to be quiet, at least for now, but he was fidgeting like a child with a weak bladder, and pacing as best as he could in the enclosed space. The kid stumbled when the ambulance hit a bump, and toppled forward against Heavy's seat. Someone who sounded decidedly not like Scout gave a yelp of pain.

"Merde! Sit down like a civilized person, you 'orrible brat!" Although he was out of Heavy's line of sight, the voice of Spy confirmed his presence as a stowaway.

Scout waxed defensive. "Fuck you, frenchie! There's no seat for me in the front; I gotta' watch the road or I'll get carsick. Anyway, who said you could come along?"

"Yeah, we're goin' out te get away from things that'd spoil the evening," Demoman piped up. Sniper, on the other hand, just hunched his shoulders and looked away.

"Hmph. I 'ave my reasons for travelling to town. Reasons you simpletons could never understand." Spy moved over to the other side of the floor, and took a spot beside Sniper. The Australian rose as though he'd sat on a tack, and clambered across the floor to sit by Pyro instead. Demoman gave him a confused look, but he just pulled his hat down and didn't say a word.

* * *

The nearest town was a modest spot in the road called Bishop, and after an hour of driving, everyone was grateful for the chance to get out and stretch their legs. As Heavy stepped out onto the street, the vehicle creaked, spooking a passing mule pack.

Scout was the first to notice them, and made immediate comment. "Whoa, what the fuck is with all of the farm animals? This place wasn't a pettin' zoo last time we came here, are they migratin' or what?" Sure enough, the street and several nearby lots seemed to be teeming with mules. Heavy and Scout began to speculate on what could be the cause of this, but Spy ruined the mystery by pointing out the banners and flags that the main drag was festooned with.

"Offhand, I would speculate zat a festival is going to take place here over ze weekend. Some sort of American wild-west thing, it seems. Per'aps you should run along and see if the local children are playing cowboys and indians, Scout."

Scout flipped him the bird, but it was Medic who interrupted any further discussion, clearing his throat impatiently. "Honestly, I don't care if zer circus is passing through zis town, ve heff something extremely important to pick up. Herr Heavy, you vill accompany me to zer postal office. As for you... ozzer people, I vill be leaving here no later zen nightfall. Don't stray far from here. If I can't find you by zen, you vill be walking home." He gestured for Heavy to follow, and returned to the driver's seat. Heavy seemed crestfallen at missing out on the chance to party, or at least watch the mule carts, but Medic's orders were always the final word. He shoehorned himself back into the wagon, and it took off down the street, moving slowly amidst the human and animal traffic.

Demoman and Sniper had already taken off for the nearest watering hole, and the Spy had outright vanished, leaving Scout and Pyro alone. Scout knew they'd eventually have to follow the others to the bar, but he wasn't in the mood for drinking (or babysitting their drunk asses.) The runner slouched a little and looked up and down the street, taking tabs on where the others had gone, and where the most fun was probably to be found. He glanced over at Pyro, who seemed a little too intrigued by the hay bedding that some of the mules were settled down in. "So, uhh... hey, you wanna' see if they got M-80's at the hardware store? I know a whole lotta' things you can do with those suckers..."

Pyro nodded his approval for this plan and Scout grinned, starting down the street with his rubber-clad amigo. M-80's it was!

* * *

Spy had professional reasons to accompany the others to town, he told himself, but picking up a few odds and ends from the general store was barely an excuse. The truth was, he wanted to keep an eye on Sniper. Maybe even spend some time around him. After his many years in the business, Spy knew the power that infatuation and lust at first sight could hold over a person- and he wasn't blind to that knowledge when he himself was the one experiencing it. But: Sniper was one of his own team members, and that changed things. He had no professional reason to seduce the man, and satisfying his own desires had to be restricted to the field of personal pastimes. Spying on his own teammates and learning about them was one of his many duties for the RED company - one of many things that everyone else on the base could never know about - but observing Sniper had only added fuel to the fire.

He hadn't planned on it happening this way. That Sniper disliked him was common knowledge, but moreover, Spy had more tact than to start flirting in the open with a co-worker, even one who he strongly suspected of homosexual tendencies. Sniper's confession to Engineer had sealed his fate, and Spy's as well; the scheme to blackmail the Australian had come almost spontaneously, but it was one of those ideas that Spy knew from the moment of conception to be perfect.

Even after the night they'd spent together, though, something gnawed at Spy- far more than he would have liked to admit. Sniper still seemed to hate his guts. Maybe even more than before. Spy wasn't hurt, precisely, but it bothered him. His own feelings for the man were impure, it was true; he was madly in lust, caught in the throes of physical desire. But he had given Sniper his all. With the rare bird finally his captive, he had brought Sniper to heights of pleasure the man had never even dreamed of, had shown him that gay sex didn't have to be something dirty, restricted to truck-stop bathrooms and other seedy places. (He did done more than just submit to the experience, too. All of the awkwardness and shame left him for a while, and he became like an animal, given over to pure pleasure. Why could he not stay that way? Why does a man let himself feel embarrassment; what virtue does he gain in denying his body?) Spy didn't want Sniper to fall in love with him- that would be terribly inconvenient. He had hoped to leave the gunman wanting more. (This would be so much easier if he saw things my way. I can't help myself, I must have him again! Pulling the blackmail card again could just sour him further... if seducing him while he was under duress didn't work as I hoped, perhaps I need to try a different tack.) As he made his way to the saloon where he knew his teammates to be, Spy mulled over his prospects for getting Sniper to cooperate.

* * *

When he entered the crowded bar, any plans for sitting alone and watching went out the window. (That mule festival must have attracted yokels from all over the countryside... there isn't one empty table left here.) He made his way to the table where Demoman and Sniper were sitting, and took a seat- in their work clothes, the other two men alone were enough to scare away any intrusion by the locals, and the masked man completed the trifecta of back-the-fuck-offishness they needed to drink in peace.

The two men must have used their affluence to win over the serving staff, because there were two bottles of moderately cheap scotch on the table, which saved them the trouble of waiting for refills. Sniper took notice of Spy immediately, despite being well into the bottle. He poured himself a double and knocked it back, then gave the masked man an impassive look. "...g'day. You enjoying yourself?"

Spy shrugged mildly, playing at being polite. "Un peu..." Demoman was in the midst of another bizarre story, and Spy didn't want to disrupt things with his sudden appearance. Not yet, anyhow.

"So there I was, jest me against th'scores of ghostly wretches that'd been hidin' out in that sea-cave. All o' me fuse caps were still wet from the tide, an' I knew I dinn'ae have anything left on me te improvise with. If I turned me back on them and ran, I'd be done for. But if I jest stood there, they'd surely find me an' suck the flesh from my bones-"

Sniper suddenly interrupted Demoman with a giddy, incredulous chuckle. "Oi! Wait, wait, wait... I can take y'word for it that you found one cannibal ghost, but a whole flippin' family of 'em? Now you're just pullin' my leg, mate."

Despite his own state of drunkenness, Demoman stared at Sniper, deathly serious. "Ee's no joke, lad. ...don't tell me ye've never heard of the terrible brood of Sawney Bean?"

"Who?" Sniper squinted through his tinted lenses, absentmindedly slopping some more liquor into his glass. "...wait, is this some sort of 'The Lurking Fear' thing?"

The Scotsman still seemed apalled to discover that his drinking buddy had never heard of Sawney Bean. "Dunno what y'mean by that, but I tell ye- Sawney Bean's nothing short of th'greatest murderin' cannibal ever te roam the whole of Scotland! It all started hundreds o' years ago, when this lazy, wicked man named Bean found a wife just as terrible as he were, and took 'er to live in a cave on th'coast near Ballantrae..."

Demoman's account of the gruesome cannibal family soon had Sniper's undivided attention, and Spy took the opportunity to flag down a serving girl and convince her red wine was needed at this table. Once he had a drink in hand, the masked man settled down to watch his co-workers get progressively drunker. (I was hoping to take Sniper aside for a private discussion, but I need an opening...) He knew from past experiences that leaving Demoman alone in a public drinking establishment could end in catastrophe- literally- but if he was going to convince the Australian to warm up to their new business arrangement, some privacy would be needed.

Spy happened to be watching the doorway when a mob of familiar faces pushed in from the street; Scout and Pyro, along with Heavy and a very angry-looking Medic. As soon as he spotted the group at the table, the doctor marched through the crowd towards them with his entourage in tow. "Zis is a disaster!" he exclaimed upon reaching the table. "Mein krankenwagen has developed some sort of mechanical problem, and refuses to run. Ve are stranded in zis place."

The inebriated duo looked up at newcomers, blinking owlishly. "I suppose you have called for ze Engineer's assistance?" Spy asked, boredly toying with his second glass of wine. "He can't take longer than an hour to get 'ere, I would 'ardly say we are stranded."

Medic fumed. Behind him, Heavy was eying the bar with interest, and Scout seemed to be conspiring with the man in the rubber suit. "Zere is important research I could be carrying out, and any time vasted is too much for my preferences! ...ach, I need to sit down..." He flopped down in an empty chair and gave a long sigh, rubbing his forehead. When Spy put his glass of wine before the doctor, it vanished in short order, and a little peace descended on the table. "Danke, Herr Spy. ...I suppose I vas just looking forward to testing some things. Timing is everything, you know?"

Spy chuckled and rose from his seat, which was quickly taken by Heavy. "Of course, Docteur. ...I believe I will step out a while, for some fresh air. Mssr. Mundy, why don't you join me? Zere is something I 'ave been meaning to ask you..."

Sniper hadn't really been paying attention to the conversation, and he was sufficiently drunk as to react with confusion when the Frenchman hauled him to his feet and started to lead him from the bar. By the time they were halfway to the door, he finally realized what was going on and made a clumsy attempt to wrestle free of Spy's grasp. "Oi, what the fuck d'you want?" he snarled.

"Do not make a scene," Spy sighed, taking control of the situation. He didn't expect any intrusion from the locals, but it was better to look like a concerned friend than a creative accoster. "You 'ave 'ad far too much to drink and you're not thinking straight, mon ami. Come, ze night air will do you some good."

* * *

Once they were outside, Sniper wrenched himself away from Spy and turned to face the chameleon, reeling a little where he stood. "Getchyer hands off me, ya bloody frog... Izzis 'bout the other night? Jesus Christ, what more d'you want from me?" He was clearly expecting a confrontation or more demands, and with half a bottle of cheap scotch in him, he wasn't looking too keen on diplomacy. Spy suddenly felt uncertain that this was the best time to talk things over.

"Be quiet," he hissed, "Do you want ze whole town eavesdropping on us?" This seemed to silence the marksman, at least temporarily. Spy decided to exploit that silence. Adopting a more benign posture, he held his hands where Sniper could see them and gave a regretful sigh. "Listen, all I want is to 'ave words with you. We need to clear some things up, wouldn't you agree?"

"This's all your fault, ya bastard," Sniper growled, but stayed where he was.

"Alright, I am going to be completely honest with you. I... never intended for things to 'appen zis way." Spy let his shoulders sag a bit, and prepared to grab the other man if he made a break for it. "When I saw you drinking yourself into a stupor ze other night, I was concerned, and thought I should... observe you for a while, in case something was terribly wrong. After I over'eard you explain yourself to Engineer, I-" Seeing Sniper had clenched his fists and was in the process of deciding where to punch first, Spy hastened to try and put him at ease. "I was feeling so desperate after so many months of longing, it seemed like my only chance! But I see now zat it was wrong of me, to put you in such a position."

The Australian looked unimpressed. On the other hand, he didn't seem to be gunning for a fist-fight anymore, and that was an improvement. "You're fuckin' right it weren't, gah... weren't right. I oughta' tell the others ya fancy men, that'd teach a lesson woul'nnit?"

"And what would you 'ave to gain by doing zat?" Spy murmured, moving closer to Sniper so he could speak in a quieter voice. "Might I remind you, mon chou, zat whatever you may think about me as a person, I am ze only man on our team who understands your... needs. And whatever you may feel about 'aving zese needs..." He gave a breathy sigh and reached out to the other man. When Sniper didn't recoil or take a swing at him, Spy placed his hands on the gunman's shoulders and gently rubbed them. "...it is far more satisfying to be with someone, to be 'eld by someone, to be kissed, and sucked, and fucked by someone..."

Sniper grunted irritably, silencing Spy. He was glaring over the frames of his glasses with an expression of angry confusion, but there was lust there as well; in his drunken state, it was hard for Spy to judge what might be going through his mind. After a moment, he snapped, "Well? I didn't say ya could stop talkin' dirty. Keep at it."

Spy leaned in close enough that he could whisper in Sniper's ear. This close to the rangy bushman, he could smell everything that drove him wild about the object of his infatuation; sweat and cigarette smoke, the red desert dust and old coffee. There was even a whiff of gun oil and stale piss, but with Spy's nose practically touching his face, the blended scotch he was drunk on nearly overpowered everything else. "I told you 'ow much I desire you zat night, and my need 'as only grown since then. Oh Mundy, I want to write poetry on you with my fingertips, I want to savor every inch of your body and 'ear you cry out with each stroke of my tongue. You are like an 'arpsichord to me; if you would just allow me to, I will use you more exquisitely than any before me. Ze music we will make together when we fuck will be savage as nature, and more intoxicating than ze strongest liquor..."

While he murmured words of seduction, Spy could feel the other man lean into him for support, and the stiff heat of Sniper's erection pressing through their clothes was electrifying. The masked man gave a faint groan, and felt a shiver from his quarry. It was a split second later that something sent a horrible prickle of alarm up Spy's back, and caused him to withdraw from the embrace they'd been sinking into.

Headlights had flashed across the couple, briefly lighting them up like a billboard. (What the hell am I doing, letting myself be seen like this? Who was that?) As Spy fumbled to straighten himself up and Sniper just tried to stay upright, the truck that had interrupted them pulled over and the door flew open. A grim smile crossed the Frenchman's lips. "One of zese local-types wants to have 'imself a little gay-bashing, does 'e? I'll carve 'im a new set of-"

The man who circled around behind the truck and came towards them was comically short for a redneck homophobe. Before he could think too much about it, Spy came to the belated realization that even in the low light, he recognized the gait and posture of this person. It was Engineer.

He didn't yell, but the little guy's voice had a slightly choked sound that made Spy uneasy. "What in the hell's goin' on here?"

Spy glanced at Sniper, who was looked like he'd been punched in the stomach. "Oh Christ, wot's... where've you been, truckie? I'm not- I dunno where t' begin..."

Engineer had his goggles off for a change, and he rubbed his eyes for a moment before clasping a hand on his forehead and sighing hoarsely. "Naw, I... y'know what? Just forget about it. I'm- dammit, where's Medic's ambulance? I just came here ta fix it." He grimaced and shook his head, keeping his gaze on the ground; Spy could tell he was close to losing his temper. While that was worrisome insofar as their chances of getting home tonight went, something about it nagged at Spy on another level.

"Medic's van? It's- ah, it must be at ze post office, I can show you ze way." Spy cleared his throat a bit, uncomfortable at his own vague sense of guilt. Engineer's recalcitrant expression didn't help. "...I 'ad just been 'elping Mssr. Mundy get some air, 'e was feeling sick from too much drink. Will y-" He turned to Sniper, in part to check on him and in part to see if he was playing along, but he was leaving; the Australian gave Engineer an embarrassed, slurred apology, then staggered off towards the bar.

"...well. I suppose ze sooner you find that broken-down ambulance, ze sooner we can all get 'ome for ze night. Let's get going, shall we?" Spy looked back to Engineer, then blinked dumbly; the Texan was giving him a hostile glare, and looking like he wanted very much to be alone right now.

He sounded uncharacteristically chilly as he spoke. "You can gimme directions right here, can't ya? I'd prefer that. ...if not, the only thing I wanna' hear from you is where to turn next. You start askin' me stupid questions, I'll break your face."

Spy was tempted to just rattle off directions, but he wasn't completely confident with his mental map of the town, and moreover, he found himself desperately curious about Engineer's bad mood. (After the things I've seen while watching him, I'm certain he's not a homophobe. Something else has set him off.) He cleared his throat awkwardly and nodded. "I will keep ze conversation to a minimum, you 'ave my word."

"I'm holdin' you to that. ...let's go."

Engineer turned and headed back to the truck, then clambered into the driver's seat and started the engine. Spy hurried after him in pensive silence, took the passenger's seat without an idle word; if he couldn't press for details, he was determined to scrutinize the man for anything that would betray him. (The man lives for his work; he's never shown a hint of annoyance when called on, day or night. No, it was something about what he saw in the headlights that's angered him. I have my suspicions, but... no, I can't be sure yet. I must observe him and hope he says something to give himself away.)

* * *

They had already reached the postal depot when Engineer realized he didn't have the keys to Medic's ambulance. He was in a bad mood as it was, and this only served to hasten his progress towards an emotional meltdown; Spy managed to diffuse the situation by performing a quick search of the cab and locating the missing keys, which were in the unused driver's side ashtray. Engineer accepted them with a morose look, and set to work diagnosing the vehicle's problem.

Turning the key in the ignition produced an unhealthy rattle from under the hood, but nothing more. "Sounds like starter trouble," Engineer said, climbing down from the driver's seat and heading for the his truck. "Make yerself useful and turn that floodlight on, Spy."

Spy had to admit that if anything, the little guy was always prepared for his work - wherever and whenever he was needed. The glow of a nearby streetlight wouldn't be enough to illuminate anything under the hood, but it did reveal an armature in the back of Engineer's truck that resembled a very large desk lamp. After a moment's study, Spy found a switch at the base and flicked it on, nearly blinding himself as a sodium bulb came to life before his eyes. As he clutched at his face and swore, Engineer broke into a quiet chuckle and gathered some tools for the job ahead.

"If zere is anything else I can do to 'elp..." Spy grumbled, still wincing away the bright spots that seemed to gouge at his retinas.

"Just stay outta my way." After his moment of sadistic amusement, Engineer had lapsed back into sullenness. He turned his attention to the guts of Medic's wagon, and for a while the only sounds were the scraping of tools, the distant whinnying of mules, and Engineer's intermittent cursing fits. Spy exercised a professional level of patience; he watched silently, smoking, and resisted the urge to comment on anything at all. In other words, he behaved the same way he did when cloaked. It was all part of the waiting game, of course - he knew Engineer to be a stubborn man, but also a personable one, and eventually his social nature would compel him to open up in one way or another.

Spy was still playing at being the invisible man when a metal object was thrust in his face. Engineer was giving him a sidelong look, and his impatience was almost tangible. "This is a solenoid. Little fucker's gone and busted itself, but it's a standard model. I got a few in the truck, go get one. ...get me a positive cable while you're at it."

"Of course," the Frenchman said, doing his best to sound compliant. He began to examine the contents of Engineer's truck, and immediately realized he had no idea where the part in question might be. (Solenoid, solenoid... that sounds like some sort of venereal disease. I don't see anything here labeled "solenoid", where the fuck is it?) Wracking his brain for any automotive knowledge he had, Spy suddenly remembered the earlier mention of starter trouble. He spotted a metal case marked 'starter/alternator', and on a desperate whim, shoved away the nearby clutter so he could open it. Along with several eldritch objects with no obvious purpose, the box contained some solenoids. He grabbed one at random and hurried back to Engineer. "Your solenoid, Mssr. ...I apologize for ze cable, zere were many in ze truck and I 'ave no idea which one it was."

Engineer snatched the object from Spy's hand, and for a moment he almost looked ready to backhand him for good measure. Then something - perhaps the genuinely surprised look on Spy's face - inspired him to stay his hand, and he sighed hoarsely, rubbing his temples. "...thanks. Look, I'm- I know I'm real ticked off right now, but I shouldn't be takin' it out on you." He turned back to the work he was doing, looking drawn and pensive.

"If you don't mind me saying, labourer, you seem exceptionally troubled right now. ...I can't 'elp but feel I am partially to blame," Spy said, affecting a courteously deadpan demeanour. Somewhere in the back of his mind, an image of himself as a ma tre D' popped up, but he managed not to snigger.

"Spy, I think the only person I can blame honestly is myself." Engineer finished installing the new component, and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a smudge of dark grease. "...I'm just feelin' foolish, that's all. Wishin' I'd said something sooner."

Spy arched an eyebrow curiously, lighting up a new cigarette as he watched the Engineer try the ignition again. This time the ambulance came to life, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"You can take this back to the others," Engineer said as he hopped down from the driver's seat. "I'd better head on back to the base."

"You are, ah, not 'elping to take ze rest of ze team back? Considering zey are probably all drunk by now, I'm sure it would be easier if we 'ad two vehicles to..." Now Spy was a little worried. (What has happened to our labourer's indomitable patience and helpfulness? He really must be disturbed right now... It seems my suspicions about him may be correct.)

"Only enough room in the cab for one other person, and that's more company than I want right now." Engineer pulled a rag from his pocket and tried to clean some of the grease off his hands, then sighed gloomily; he honestly looked sort of heartbroken. After he put his tools away and turned off the floodlight, he turned to Spy. "...take good care of him for me, will ya? I'll... I guess I'll see y'all in a little while."

"Take care of who, Mssr.?"

Engineer clambered into the driver's seat of his truck, and started the engine. He raised his voice to be heard over the vehicle and said, "Mundy," then closed the door and drove off into the night.


	5. Messy Finish

( _Author's note: The man Engineer tells Soldier about is the late Buckminster Fuller, a real-world crazy genius who invented the Dymaxion car and the Geodesic dome, among things._

_Medic's kombi seems like the team's best bet for a portable drunk-tank. _)

* * *

Although tempted to make a dramatic entrance, Spy decided that subtlety would be a wiser approach, and merely opened the door to the bar, slipping in quietly. Things looked mostly as they had when he left; no fights had broken out, though his co-workers were easily the noisiest, most volatile party in the room. Crowded around the same table as before, everyone but Scout had succumbed to bacchanalia: Sniper was sleeping or passed out, with Demoman following close in his tracks. The wine was long gone, but Heavy and Medic had acquired a bottle of some clear liquor, and were sharing shots of it with a very delighted Pyro. As Spy approached, he saw something burst into flames and heard raucous laughter from the group.

"You seriously gonna' drink that flaming shit, fatty? I mean, really? It's on fucking fire! Man, I don't believe you crazy bastards... g'wan, Pyro, light another one!" While he was still sober, Scout was making his own contribution to the bedlam, in the form of high-volume running commentary.

"Tiny man is scared of drinking fire? Hah! Is perfectly safe!" Heavy gave another bellow of laughter, then knocked-back the flaming shot. "In Russia, drinking much more dangerous. You try lighting shot of vodka? Much more dangerous! Hahahah!"

Perched unsteadily on Heavy's knee, Medic was toying with an unlit shot, watching a few dark objects swirl around at the bottom of the glass. Spy realized they were coffee beans, and the activity started to make a little more sense to him. "Good evening, gentleman. Sambuca con mosca, Docteur?"

"Ja, ja... das war Herr Heavy's suggestion, he alvays hess such interesting ideas to liven up an evening out..." The doctor was in much higher spirits than when Spy had left- perhaps a little too high, he appeared to be drunk out of his wits. He withdrew the shot when Pyro's lighter threatened, and downed it sans fire, swallowing the coffee beans as well. "Oops! Ah, vas that supposed to be chewed? I can't seem to remember now..." Medic giggled dizzily, and leaned back against his human shield.

"Oh hey look, Spy's back. C'mon, we gotta' make him drink it! Pyro, Pyro- yeah, that's enough fire for now. Spy!" Scout suddenly grabbed one of the flaming shots of sambuca, and practically threw it at Spy, glass and all; the masked man deftly grabbed the shot, looking nonplussed. "Don't be a faggot, man, drink it! Don't you dare blow it out first, either, or we're gonna' fuck you up. Drink the fuckin' fire, man!"

"...I 'ave participated in far more strenuous tests of manhood than zis, boy, but I will humor you." Spy downed it without so much as a wince or a cough. "Satisfied?"

Scout rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, man, I know you were totally freaked out. So what happened to Engie, anyhow? When's he gonna' get here to bail us out? 'cause this is real fun and all, but I can think of a whole lotta' things I'd rather be doing than spending the night here listening to these chuckleheads swap drinking stories."

"Ze labourer 'as already left for 'ome. ...we can leave any time now, Medic's van is in working order."

"Wait, we can get outta' here? Well, what the fuck are we waitin' for? Gimme the keys, man, I wanna' drive for a change." Scout immediately set upon Spy and started rifling through his pockets. The others slowly realized what Spy had said, and began the arduous process of moving themselves from the premises; while Heavy could have easily carried three men while sober, his stability at the moment was not what it could be, and he could only manage helping Medic and Demoman to their feet. Pyro made a valiant attempt to lift Sniper, but the Australian was all gangly arms and legs, which was more than a drunk little Pyro could handle.

"Trou-de-cul! I will be driving, boy. Go open ze back doors, I'm sure Heavy will need all ze help he can get in loading ze others."

"Fuck you, frog! ...you want me to pick the lock on those doors or what? I'm gonna' need the keys anyhow. Looks like Pyro needs help with Sniper, why don't you help drag his dirty van-dwellin' ass out, and I'll open the van. Fair enough?"

Spy glowered at Scout, but relented and let him have the keys. "Don't get any clever ideas, boy. We'll be outside momentarily, so get moving!"

Scout gave a jackass laugh as he made for the exit, where Heavy was trying to negotiate a door handle with a person in each of his huge hands. "Don't sweat it, crouton, I wouldn't dream of takin' off without you guys!"

As the runner helped the rest of the team outside, Spy turned his attention to Sniper and Pyro. "You are dismissed, my little diable... go 'elp your friend Scout, I can take ze Sniper out on my own."

Pyro was still straining to get a good hold on the Australian, but he relinquished the task at Spy's request and nodded, taking off after the others. Spy donned Sniper's hat so it wouldn't get lost, then pulled him into an upright position and began wrestling him from his seat. This wasn't the kind of physical interaction he'd been craving, not by any stretch of the imagination. "I doubt you can 'ear me, Mundy, but zis would be a lot easier if you would at least try to stand."

The only response Spy got was slurred muttering, but it did suggest some degree of awareness on Sniper's part. With the weakness of the barely-conscious, he latched his arms around Spy's shoulders and let himself be led away. Even in an inebriated daze, the man's rugged good looks were hard to ignore; the tousled chestnut hair, the long face, even his fantastically crooked teeth held a certain appeal to Spy. His head sunk against the crook of Spy's shoulder, and something about his hot breath made the masked man's heart twist.

* * *

The moment Spy arrived with Sniper at the back of the truck, it was clear that something was terribly wrong. Pyro, Medic and Demoman were all dozing in the back, and Heavy's snoring from the front passenger's seat was like a foghorn. But someone was unaccounted for. Just as he began to half-drag, half-carry Sniper up into the ambulance's roomy back, he heard something that filled him with dread.

"Quit jackin' off and get in here, faggot! This is the last trip of the day on the RED line, the midnight fuckin' ride... We run from Buttfuck Nowhere to Home Base, so get your ass off the platform and lemme get this baby started!" The itinerary was delivered by Scout, who had bogarted the driver's seat after all and was now starting the engine.

Spy cursed, but he knew when he'd been had; all he could do now was climb in and hope Scout didn't crash the van. There wasn't enough floorspace for him to take a corner to himself, so he made do settling down beside Sniper. As they left town and started down dark and lonely desert roads, peace descended on the crowded ambulance and its jostled occupants.

The Frenchman leaned back against the wall and sighed. Beside him, he could hear Sniper whimpering in his sleep; as he listened, he realized that some of the man's drunken mumbling was actual words. (...he's talking about his mother. A bad dream, perhaps? I know that Mundy is estranged from his family, perhaps he wishes to reconcile with them...) He shook his head a little, frowning, and tried to steady himself as the wagon bounced and rattled everyone inside. Even if he was hoping to establish a regular sexual engagement with the bushman, Spy was adamant that a lover's emotional problems should be none of his concern. Still, sitting there in the darkness and listening to Sniper weak cries, Spy found it hard not to feel for him. Eventually he put an arm behind the other man's shoulders and pulled him closer, letting Sniper's head sag against his shoulder. In time, the muffled lamentations gave way to faint snoring and snuffling, and Spy could feel Sniper relax against him. (It's a pity your friend the Engineer isn't here right now for you, you wounded beast of a man... I don't have the patience for tending to you that he has. Ah, if only you knew the things I do... Funny how the world works, isn't it? You despise me, yet I desire you. You have a friend in him, but he is wishing for more, for things he can't bear to ask you...)

He closed his eyes and tried to relax against the wall of the shaking van, but it was less than ideal as far as sleeping surfaces go. Somewhere in the dark, Spy could hear the doctor hiccough then go quiet again; at his shoulder, Sniper seemed to stir and muttered incoherently.

"Just sleep, me perdu," Spy said wearily. "'ome cannot be too far."

Sniper squirmed, and tried to speak with all the clarity he could muster: "...stop th'car, 'm 'bout t'chunder," he croaked.

The Australian's patois caught Spy off-guard, and he straightened up a little, squinting through the gloom at his drunken team mate. "Wait, what are you saying?" He found out a moment later, to great dismay.

* * *

As Engineer situated his truck in the parking garage, he saw a figure appear in the doorway, carrying a package under one arm. "STATUS REPORT, PRIVATE!" came a booming voice- it was Soldier, of course. Everyone else was still in town.

He turned off the engine and clambered out, smiling faintly. The drive back had been an exercise in brooding, but towards the end of it, Engineer had finally concluded that one way or another, he was going to have to spill his guts to Sniper if he ever wanted to resolve the tension in his mind. This decision hadn't triggered an instant improvement in his mood, but his frown had been fading by degrees since then, and he was surprised to feel enthusiasm at the sight of Soldier greeting him. "The problem's been rectified, sarge. I'll probably run a couple'a diagnostics on the Doc's ambulance later, see if I can't figure out what caused it to malfunction in the first place." As the two men approached each other, Engineer couldn't help but grin - Soldier seemed to have settled down since their talk after the battle, and he'd brought a six-pack to share.

"Excellent work, Engie! I thought we'd have a beer, to, uh... to celebrate the week's end. I know, I know... today's battle didn't go so well. A total defeat. But the team's pulled off some stunning work this week, too. Just as we can't forget our mistakes, we can't forget our victories either, private! Maintaining the unit's morale is not an expense, it's an investment! ...so, um..." Soldier cleared his throat a little, and handed Engineer a can of beer.

"Thanks, sarge," he said with a bashful smile, and sat down on his truck's rear bumper. After a moment of looking bewildered, Soldier took a seat beside him, and the two drank in comfortable silence.

It was no secret to the rest of the team that Soldier's one-track mind left him ill equipped to deal with other human beings outside the sphere of war. Engineer used no drugs or secret powers to converse peacefully with the man - he just listened and spoke like he would to anyone else, with the same dignity and respect that any working man deserved. Soldier's explosive nature had given him a life history of butting heads with everyone he met, but in dealing with the soft-spoken Engineer, he found himself thrust from his native element. At first, it was as if he had no idea what to do when someone wasn't shouting back at him. Over time, though, Soldier had slowly started to grasp concepts like "indoor voice" and "listening to people". ...it would probably be a while before his conditioning became a regular part of interactions with the rest of the team, but it was a start.

Engineer cracked open another beer and leaned back against the tailgate, giving a relaxed sigh. "I got a feeling things will go better next time. ...call it a hunch. I just couldn't keep my mind as sharp as it shoulda' been this week, I know I wasn't firin' on all cylinders."

Soldier's brow furrowed slightly; a team mate confessing to poor performance was a conundrum for him, in and of itself. Coming from Engineer, it was doubly baffling, since chewing him out just didn't seem like the right response. After analyzing the situation from several angles of approach, he finally settled on one that made the most sense. "Why's that, Engie?"

"Had somethin' stuck in my craw." The little guy shrugged, and gulped back half his can of Blu Streak. "But... I reckon I've got it all worked out now. Just gotta' make a few minor adjustments to my plans, y'know?"

The older man nodded, scratching his lantern jaw pensively. "You're a real stickler for details, private. Doesn't matter what it is you're up to, you've always gotta' have everything down to a science, am I right?"

Engineer smiled and looked off at nothing in particular. Through the open door of the parking garage, he could see a postcard picture of the desert night, all twinkling stars and the mesa glowing dimly in moonlight. "That's just the way I am, sarge. Can't say I'm perfect by any means, but I'm always tryin' to be- I figure that's my best shot at makin' beautiful things." He suddenly turned to look at Soldier, a wide, impish grin on his face.

Soldier seemed confused by this explanation. "Beautiful things? What in Sam Hill do you mean by that?"

"Back when I was workin' on my degree, I had the good fortune to attend a lecture by one of the greatest minds in America. Now this fella', he once said somethin' I always think of when I'm workin'- he said that beauty is a solution that works. ...if it ain't beautiful, it ain't the right solution, you get what I'm sayin'?"

Although this was a little esoteric for his own way of thinking, Soldier nodded slowly. He seemed to be considering another question when the rumble of a vehicle could be heard. Medic's ambulance was inbound.

The tall white van came barreling into the parking garage and lunged into a turn at the last second, screeching to a halt by the door inside. As the engine turned off there was a moment of quiet, then the driver's side door opened and Scout staggered out, wheezing with laughter. He stumbled towards the entrance, then spotted Soldier and Engineer, and burst out laughing anew.

"Oh, fu-hu-huuuck... holy shit, you guys, you are-" A fresh gale of hee-haw's interrupted the young man, and he struggled to find his voice again. "You are not gonna fuckin' believe what happened on the way back! Oh my God, it was- I can't even find the right fuckin' words to describe it, it was like somethin' exploded! Shit! All I'm gonna' say is, I am NOT gonna' be the guy who's stuck cleanin' Medic's van..."

Soldier and Engineer stared, not sure if they should be alarmed or morbidly curious. The Texan spoke up. "What the hell're you talkin' about, son? What happened in there?"

Spy could be heard as the back doors opened; he was using the kind of epithets usually reserved for stripping paint. Scout managed to straighten his face to the point he could talk, then replied, "It was a complete and total barf-o-rama! Fuckin' seriously, I don't even wanna' see what those guys are lookin' like, I only caught a glance while it was happening! Speakin' of which, I better get the hell outta here before those assholes start blamin' me for it. Seeya'!"

Scout made himself scarce while the first bedraggled figures emerged from the back of the ambulance. The first person to pass by was Spy, who was still spitting and swearing as he headed straight for the door inside. Someone had spewed down the front of his pinstriped suit, and judging by the expression on Spy's face, it probably wasn't him. As Heavy clumsily extracted himself from the passenger's side, Pyro and Demoman came tumbling out onto the garage floor, and set to work assuming an upright position.

"Jes' hold it, hold it..." came a slurred voice from inside the vehicle.

Medic's despairing wail was the only coherent response. "Mein Krankenwagen! Wie..."

"Ah think th'doc's havin' kittens een there," Demoman giggled, and began dragging Pyro towards the entrance. Sniper stepped out and promptly went face-down on the floor, then mumbled something that might have been an appeal for help. All three of them looked at least as bad as Spy, but considering their level of intoxication, they probably weren't suffering the indignity of wearing someone else's vomit.

Engineer sighed, and glanced at Soldier. "...this team's still got some issues ta work out. You think w- sarge? What're you doin'?"

Before Engineer could get an answer, the bigger man was already prowling towards the drunken mob, a sadistic gleam in his eye. He reached down and hefted Pyro over his shoulder, then grabbed Demoman and Sniper by their collars, and got the whole entourage moving inside. "ENGIE!" he shouted, a little too cheerfully. "AS OF THIS SECOND, WE ARE ESCORTING THESE MEN TO A TRAINING EXERCISE! ROUND UP SAWBONES AND THE COMMIE! WE WILL RENDEZVOUS AT THE SHOWER ROOM IN THREE MINUTES!"

"Lassen sie mich in ruhe!" Medic snapped; it looked like Heavy was trying to coax him out of the van. Engineer pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned wearily, then pulled up his goggles and snapped them on. This was going to be a long night.


	6. Awakening

( _Author's note: Medic's suspicious package is essentially a MacGuffin, but I have loose plans for using it in a future story..._

_"That Kinsey fella" is _Alfred Charles Kinsey_, a famous sexologist of the early/mid-20th century. He created the Kinsey Scale of sexual orientation, which proposes humans have varying degrees of sexual preference, ranging from 0 (exclusively heterosexual) to 6 (exclusively homosexual). _)

* * *

When Sniper awoke the next day, his first thoughts were of malaria. (Oh God, not this again... where am I? How..?) His whole body ached terribly, and he was in the grip of furious chills. As he started trying to sit up, the sour taste of bile came surging up the back of his throat; he lay back down promptly and grimaced, clutching a hand over his face. (The bed's soaked... how long have I been ill?) Bits and pieces of the previous night were all he could dredge up from his memory. Squinting around the room, he spotted his clothes draped over a folding chair, his hat and glasses resting on the seat itself. He suddenly had a weird, foggy recollection of Soldier forcing him to march in the rain. (Wait, it wasn't rain, it was a cold shower. We were in the communal shower room. Me and some of the other blokes, why were we...)

Despite the damp bed he was lying in, Sniper felt a warm sense of relief flood over him, more powerful than the hangover he was suffering. He even grinned in spite of himself, sagging back against the wet mattress. (Not malaria. It's not malaria, I'm not dying in a jungle somewhere.) He couldn't recall how the incident in the shower room had played out, or who had taken him to his room and wrestled him out of his wet clothes, but in retrospect he was sort of grateful. (Give me something dry to wear after I've had a proper shower.)

Sniper was feeling too decrepit to care if anyone saw him wandering the halls in a damp bed sheet, but his trip to the shower room went unnoticed. After a much-needed soak under the hot water, he squirmed into his wrinkled clothing and went to see if there was still coffee on in the mess.

As he entered the mess hall, the lingering smell of breakfast made Sniper's insides churn, but he was determined to get coffee before he worried about anything else. A voice caught his attention, and he peered through his mercifully dark glasses to see who was in the room.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in... G'mornin', stretch," Engineer said cheerfully. He seemed to be reading Friday's newspaper and nursing a big mug of coffee. Sitting across from him was Demoman, who had fallen asleep face-down on an empty plate.

"G'day," Sniper croaked. His mouth had the texture of sandpaper, and tasted much worse. After draining the carafe into his favorite mug, he poured himself a glass of water for good measure, and headed over to park himself beside Engineer. "Everyone else been through 'ere already?"

"A few of 'em. I saw the big fella' leave with two cups of coffee, I reckon he's got his hands full dealing with Medic. ...you musta' slept through the temper tantrum he was throwin' earlier, huh?"

Sniper furrowed his brow pensively. Something about the doctor was nagging at him, but he couldn't remember what. "...this about 'is hearse?"

Engineer burst into laughter, then tried to quiet himself as Sniper cringed from the noise. "Hearse? Well now, I don't think it's quite that bad. Wouldn't know it to have heard Medic earlier, though. Seems like some of you partyin' folk musta' upchucked all over the inside of the darn thing. He was livid."

"...weren't he drinkin' last night, too? I- it's all sort of a blur now, but I saw him an' Heavy doing shots of... ...I dunno, there was something weird in it. Coffee beans, I think." Sniper began to slowly rehydrate himself. His stomach wasn't too keen on the arrangement, but after last night, he imagined he could see the cells of his body, drawing the water in like tiny sponges. He began to feel better, bit by bit.

The Texan started to talk, then broke into a grin and had to keep himself from laughing too loudly. "Jes' between you and me, the Doc was pretty loaded. Wouldn't doubt that some of the mess is his. ...aw, I shouldn't be amused by his bad luck. Guess I wouldn't be laughin' if it was my truck."

A smile crept across Sniper's face as he listened to his friend talk. He started into his coffee and sighed, leaning against the table. Across from them, Demoman snored peacefully despite the toast crumbs in his moustache. "Well, sounds like you remember more 'bout what I was doing last night than I do... what about you, truckie? All quiet at the... ...wait, I think I saw-" Sniper felt nauseous all of a sudden, and tried to blink away the spots that were flashing in corner of his eyes. "W- were you there when... I think Spy was talking to me, but then 'e got whispering in my ear, and you showed up..."

Engineer's grin faded and he suddenly looked very small and embarrassed, diverting his gaze to the tabletop. "...yeah," he said quietly. "Yeah, I saw that. ...say, I think we gotta' talk. I know you're- I mean, that you and Spy must be... y'know. But I gotta' tell you something, or it'll eat away at me 'til I lose my mind."

Sniper grimaced, feeling something tighten in his chest. "No, it's not like that at all. I... urgh, I hate that bastard." He drained the rest of his coffee, then rose to his feet unsteadily, weak-kneed and anxious. "...c'mon, I know a good place to sit down and have a chat. Dunno if I can take th'smell of food much longer, anyhow."

* * *

The musty smell of Sniper's van calmed his nerves a bit, but as he and Engineer sat down on the battered cot that served as a bed, both men knew the real reason this was a good place to talk - there was barely enough room for two people, let alone three. At such close quarters, even a cloaking device wouldn't let Spy eavesdrop on them without being caught.

"So, what's on your mind?" Sniper asked, looking sidelong at his Engineer. His stomach knotted up as terrible possibilities sprang to mind. (It's too much for him to tolerate, isn't it. I can't expect him to look the other way, not after last night. Oh God, I never should have told him anything, I knew this would drive him away. Knew this was too abnormal for him to put up with. It's a sin, that's what they call it.) The possibility of losing his best friend on the team loomed large in Sniper's mind; being a loner was easy back when he had been working in the wilderness, but living with eight other people changed the equation. With a gaggle of team-mates for contrast, he'd soon start feeling like a recluse.

Engineer pried his goggles off, and seemed to wilt with trepidation. The look in his eyes was one of anxiety, more than anything else, and he absentmindedly wrung his hands together while searching for the right words. "I don't know how to put it rightly," he finally said, and gave a drawn-out sigh. "It's something I've- well, something I've known for a while. I just didn't wanna' admit it, not... not even to myself."

Now Sniper felt confused. These weren't the words of someone who was looking for a polite way to terminate a friendship. It sounded more like Engineer was trying to confide to him a terminal disease, or some crippling health condition. He frowned and tried not to sound too worried. "Are you alright? I mean, is there something terribly wrong with you? ...y'know, something respawn won't fix?"

Sniper's mind was whirling with words like 'cancer' and 'dementia', so he wasn't reassured when Engineer heaved another sigh and mumbled, "...sorta'."

He half-turned and put a hand on the little guy's shoulder, eyes wide with concern. "Have you told the Doc'? ...is there anything can be done about it?"

Engineer looked at him for a long moment, then clasped a hand over Sniper's and started to laugh. It was a weird reaction, but something about the American's posture suggested relief. After a few awkward moments, Engineer regained some of his composure, and leaned against Sniper's shoulder as he caught his breath. "Aw, geeze... I'm sorry, I didn't- it's not somethin' like that, I wasn't tryin' to make you worry... it's just that... dammit, we're both terrible with words, ain't we? ...this thing I'm talkin' about, it's been botherin' me just about forever. Yer probably the last person I should be worried about tellin' this to, except..." He rubbed his eyelids and sagged against Sniper, letting out a low whistle.

Sniper swallowed with an audible click; he felt as though there were a fistful of gravel stuck in his throat. Fighting against every screaming fragment of his mind that told him this was a bad idea, he reached his other arm across Engineer's back and gave the man's other shoulder a gentle squeeze. (It's a harmless gesture. We're mates, right? It don't have to mean anything more than that.)

"...I'm awful fond of you. Y'know how hard it can be, for a man ta say some things," Engineer murmured. He rested his cheek on Sniper's collar, and meshed their fingers together lightly.

The Australian's chest tightened painfully. He'd been on an emotional roller-coaster ride for the past few days, and some bitter part of him thought this was just icing on the cake. (First me father disown me, then I get flippin' blackmailed, and now this. ...my old life was easier. Being completely alone is easier. What the hell am I getting myself into..?)

Spy's poetic words of admiration had been easier for him to stomach, in some ways. (Everything that bastard does is some sort of lie. Who knows, maybe he isn't even sure if he's telling the truth about anything anymore. ...besides, I hate him. Bloody piker.) Engineer, on the other hand, was anything but deceitful by nature. This meant that Sniper was dealing with a genuine confession of... something. (Of love? Christ, I don't even know what love is. Lust, sure. I've got some experience with that. But love?)

The moments ticked by as Sniper's mind raced. He knew that he and Engineer were friends - he'd go so far as to say that. Was it something more? Engineer had seemed rather shy and avoidant since Sniper came out, but now he knew the reason; looking back over what had transpired that week, the little guy's behaviour suddenly made more sense. (I should have figured it out. Maybe months ago. He never holds my hand or brings me flowers or anything like that, but... we're pretty tight, aren't we? He's always been there for me. Always makes me feel happier, just seeing him. ...I trust him more than anyone else here, don't I... I'd do favours for him that I wouldn't do for anyone else.) Tension coiled around Sniper's head like a snake, his heart was aching with uncertainty. He knew that he cared greatly for Engineer, to the point that thoughts of losing their friendship had been agony. But did he love him? Could he love him, let alone love anyone? And if he didn't know for sure, was it worth the risks to try?

(There's only one way to find out, isn't there?) Trying not to choke on his words, he whispered, "'m fond of you too, truckie." He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss against Engineer's temple, feeling the man's blonde stubble catch on his own unshaven chin, and the crushing pain in his chest began to subside. They sat like this for a while, as though each man was silently digesting his newfound sense of peace. As calm settled over both of their troubled spirits Sniper was sure that new questions would surface to restore doubt, but for now all he wanted was to rest. He could wait for more answers.

Engineer seemed to feel the same way, and remained snuggled up against him until a knock at the door interrupted the silence. As they hastily disentangled themselves, there was a second and more furious knock, and Medic could be heard yelling outside the camper van. "Herr Sniper, come out here at once! I know you are one of ze dummkopfs who is responsible for ze state of my wagon, and you are going to fix it RIGHT NOW!"

Sniper groaned and frowned at the door. "Christ, not now... I guess I oughta' give him what he wants, before he barges in 'ere." He rose to his feet, and paused to look down at Engineer. "Look, ah- meet me later? There's- I, I really wanna' talk more, about... y-y'know..."

"Of course," Engineer said, and smiled shyly. "You can find me in my workshop, I've got plenty to do there in the meantime."

"Right, I'll be there." Sniper tipped his hat, then hurried out before Medic could decide to break the door down.

* * *

Sniper and Demoman were less than enthusiastic about the revolting task to which they had been assigned. It didn't help that they weren't the only ones who'd overdone it and made a mess in the ambulance - Demoman swore he'd seen Pyro (and Medic himself) take part in the debacle, but neither of them were being yelled at to clean it up. Unfortunately, there was little point in arguing with the doctor about it; nobody on the team was foolhardy enough to stay on his bad side, no matter how cantankerous he was being. As soon as Medic excused himself to go lie down, they moved his van to the outside lot and hosed it out.

"He didn't sound too happy when you mentioned takin' a hose to this thing's interior yesterday, DeGroot," Sniper said in an off-hand way. He and Demoman were kneeling on the front seats with their backsides against the dashboard, armed with a mop and a high-pressure firehose.

Demoman didn't look too concerned. "If 'Medic wants th'puke scrubbed out of 'is jalopy with a feather duster, he can bloodywell do it himself. Do ye fancy takin' more time here than we honestly have to?"

Sniper cackled, and noticed a globe-sized box on the floor of the van that hadn't been there yesterday afternoon. He prodded it with the mop, but it was too heavy to shift around and he soon forgot about it.

After the work was done, both men agreed that coffee and smokes were next on the agenda, so they headed to the mess hall. The only people there were the ever-quiet Pyro, and Spy, who greeted them with silence and a morose glare. "He oughta' be thankin' his lucky stars that we dinnae jes' blow that clunker ta bits," Demoman grumbled, once they were situated at a table.

"Don't think I could take the noise right now, t'be honest." Sniper managed a crooked grin, and sucked back a lungful of poison. The morning's hangover had faded for the most part, but his head was still throbbing intermittently. Nicotine would help with that.

Demoman rolled his eye in disbelief. "Y'can't tell me there weren't thoughts o' revenge dancin' about in your head while we were stuck cleanin' out her majesty's carriage. Where's your sense of fun, lad?"

"I dunno, mate, I thought it were sort of Herculean. ...y'know, wastin' time to deal with a bunch of bullshit for the high an' mighty?"

Rising from his place at the other table, Spy sniffed irritably. "Hmph. If zat is 'ow you define it, everyone 'ere must be a champion of legend." He strolled off, lighting a cigarette.

"I feel like a bloody champion some days," Demoman mused, watching the steam from his mug drift skywards. "...God, I need a drink."

* * *

Once he felt sufficiently revitalized by the power of cigarettes and coffee, Sniper left the mess hall and made his way down to the workshop. He felt as though the nerve-wracking anxiety from before had transformed into something else along the way; his heart seemed to be comfortably stuck in his chest for now, but it was racing, and a sort of giddy irrationality was skirting the edges of his mind. Standing outside the door, he had a fleeting thought that he should have brought flowers or candy. (Don't be stupid, we're grown bloody men. ...can't believe I'm even thinking about this! Beer, that would've been more fitting. Sure I've got another six-pack squirreled away somewhere...) He was nervously smoothing his hair back when the door opened, and Engineer peered out into the hallway.

"Oh! How- how long've you been waiting?" Sniper stammered, fumbling to put his hat back on. He thought the better of it after a moment, and took off his hat and shades. No sense trying to conceal himself anymore, not if he was going to be completely honest with his friend.

Engineer laughed, then grinned sheepishly. "You mean in my shop, or at the door? ...I've just been lookin' out now and then, when I hear footsteps. C'mon in, before we get any company."

Sniper didn't have to be told twice - he was even more wary of Spy's eavesdropping habits than Engineer. He bolted the door behind him, then was led by Engineer to the coziest part of the room, as it were. Behind the desk and drafting table, a dilapidated couch and armchair had been arranged kitty-corner to each other, surrounded on either side by bookshelves. Both men hesitated for a moment, then overcame their trepidations and sat down together. The clapped-out cushions sagged under them towards the middle of the couch, and they found themselves wedged together as a result.

"Whoa- I didn't mean to bump into ya like that, just l- just lemme' see if I can-"

Engineer started trying to squirm free, and now it was Sniper's turn to laugh. He hefted Engineer up so that the shorter man's legs lay across his, and hugged him against his chest. "'s alright, mate, don't bother me."

"I- if yer sure about it," Engineer said, looking up at Sniper. His face and even his ears had gone bright red, but he was smiling. This close together, they could feel each other's pulse, could smell each other's sweat. Resting his head against Sniper's shoulder, Engineer sighed, suddenly looking very at-ease with the situation. Eventually he spoke again. "What was it you wanted ta talk about..?"

"'m trying to remember..." Sniper was having a hard time dredging up the questions that had nagged him back in the camper van. Right now, it was easier for him to focus on physical things: the heat from the man in his arms, the warmth of breath across his throat, the fluttering in the pit of his stomach and his stirring loins. He finally found words again, even though he was loathe to break the silence. "...that was it, I was... I just wanted to let you know, you don't hafta' rush into this. I-if you don't want to. I dunno if you've ever been with a man before, or if it... well, if it really makes any difference t'you." He suddenly felt tears stinging at his eyes, and closed them with a sigh. "I've been so worried 'bout scarin' you away, ever since I told you..."

"Naw," Engineer said softly, and curled in closer to him, tentatively kissing his neck. He smelled like sweat and cheap soap. "My whole life, I've just tried ta ignore these sorts of feelings. ...y'know how it is. When everyone around you is sayin' that something's wrong, there's a part of you that starts believin' it... hell, you've probably heard the same things I have. ...even after all the reading I did, I still didn't know for sure if it was mental illness, or sin, or just somethin' people don't understand. But after you talked ta me the other day, when you- y'know, told me there was somethin' wrong with you... well, I've been thinkin' about it since then."

Sniper gave a thoughtful frown, and nodded. He was pretty certain that none of Engineer's PhD.'s were in philosophy, but the Texan was still miles above him, intellectually speaking. If there was one person whose opinion he might consider more enlightened than his own, at least where book-smarts were a factor, it would be Engineer. "You figure anything out, mate?" He could feel Engineer's stubbly scalp rub his cheek at the man nodded, and he couldn't help but smile.

Engineer was quiet for a moment, seeming to consider his words, and then he spoke again. "There's things about a man that he chooses, like how he's gonna' make a living, what kinda' car he drives, who he votes for, and so on. Matters of the mind, you could say. ...then there's things he don't have a lotta' choice in. He can't decide whether or not he needs air ta breathe, that's just a necessity of bein' human. He can't choose his parents or his country of birth, or whether he's got a workin' pancreas, or who he falls in love with. Those are just things that happen ta him for one reason or another. Ah don't believe in predestination or fate or gods choosin' how we're gonna' live, but... there's scientific causes behind everything that happens to us. People are still tryin' ta figure out a lot of them, but when you look at it objectively, the world makes a lot more sense. ...besides, what rational person would decide ta be somethin' so many people hate? The way I see it, that Kinsey fella' was onto something. We're all just born one way or another, or another, or another." Engineer gave a long sigh, and he seemed strained with regret, however briefly. "...lookin' back at it, ah just wish it hadn't taken so long for me to admit it to myself."

As he held the little guy in his arms, Sniper could feel his heart ache. "What a confusing bloody world we live in... If only- ...bah, suppose there's no sense in moping 'bout it, is there. ...we're better off lookin' ahead, aren't we?"

"Yeah... reckon we are." Engineer craned his neck and pressed his lips to Sniper's cheek, giving him a tentative kiss. "...so, if- if there's somethin' you wanna, do, stretch, I'm game. Lord knows it's been ages since I was with another person. ...heh, my personal life sounds pretty damn boring when I put it that way."

"Nah, 's not like there's a lot of options while we're workin' out here," Sniper said, and leaned in to kiss him back.

It was a chaste little peck, a light tug at his lower lip, but it seemed to ignite all the longing he had felt for the bushman; he pushed closer against Sniper until he was practically sitting in his lap, and began hungrily kissing him. He hadn't answered when asked if he'd been with another man before, but it didn't seem to make a difference one way or another. As they drew together, words gave way to a more physical language.


	7. Bonding, Release

( _Author's note: as mentioned previously, aspects of this story have been toned-down in accordance with rules; __ if you're desperate to see the un-edited version, it can be found at y-gallery, where my username is also Yaddie, and at my tumblr, helpmejesus dot tumblr dot com_ )

* * *

Engineer's doubts had been eroding since the day he overheard Sniper on the phone, but he knew the last fragments were gone when he felt the other man's erection through their clothes and gave an involuntary groan. He thought he might feel stupid later for all the time he'd wasted fretting, but right now there was only lips, breath, and the raging heat within him that seemed to beg for more, more sweat, more closeness. Their clothes suddenly seemed like an infuriating obstacle.

"Think we'd better undress," he panted, fumbling with the straps on his overalls.

"On this ratty couch? We'll look like we've been rolling around in a bin somewhere," Sniper said, but he was laughing, wrestling off his vest and his belt.

Engineer wiggled his eyebrows theatrically. "Frankly my dear, ah don't give a damn." He climbed off of Sniper, but only for as long as it took them to discard their pants.

The Australian lay back along the length of the couch and grinned toothily as Engineer crawled on top of him, blushing furiously at the sight of his nudity. "C'mon, mate, I know mine ain't the first one you've seen."

"D'you always run around all bare-ass under your jeans?" Engineer's shock didn't affect his interest in the situation; he still had a pair of red briefs on, but they were straining to conceal his arousal. "Ah know we're both mercenaries, but... that seems pretty dangerous t'me."

"Never caught my prick in a zipper before," Sniper murmured, as his focus seemed to shift to the other man's body. His hands were at Engineer's waist one moment, then they wandered up and began teasing gasps and sighs from him, even as he was still fumbling to unbutton his shirt. The moment he cast it off, Sniper pulled him down and attacked his throat with ravenous kisses. Engineer tried to make his own hands useful and set to work on the marksman's shirt, but after such a long drought of physical contact, it was a struggle for him to stay focused. He felt teeth against his collarbone, and gave an embarrassingly loud cry of pleasure.

"J- Jesus Christ on a fire engine, wouldya' just- just slow down a little? ...don't wanna' shoot off in my underpants like I'm twelve years old again," he stuttered, and let out a nervous chuckle.

Sniper relented patiently and smiled up at the American, pulling his own shirt open. His chest seemed to be all ribs and sinew, quite a contrast with the sturdy muscle and overlying pudge that Engineer sported. "Right, I won't push ya' too hard. ...'ere, you don't hafta' keep your hands to yourself like that. Touch me."

A surge of pleasant warmth seemed to creep up Engineer's spine, and as he started to fondle the taller man, he suddenly felt much more like he was in control of the situation. His prosthetic right hand was gloved and not really suited to the task, but just fine to grip the couch for support while the rest of his body took care of the sensitive work. Ever conscious of details, he was gentle with the tanned places that Sniper's clothes wouldn't hide, but gave himself over to firmer pinches and suckling as he moved lower on the bushman's torso. Engineer could feel Sniper's erection budging against his thigh, and shifted his hips until they were both grinding together through the fabric of his briefs.

"Ahh, fuck! Th- that's it... ohhhgod, you sure you've never done this before?" Sniper writhed under Engineer and moaned wantonly, lifting his ass off the couch and grinding against the other man. He was slick with sweat, gleaming under the fluorescent lights, his chest heaving with each needy gasp. "Gimme more... c'mon, just a- nngh, just a little pain... take your pants down, I wanna' see all of you..."

Engineer was vaguely alarmed by the marksman's first request, and the technical part of his brain hoped that rough squeezes and nipple biting would be enough. But when Sniper cried out and started vigorously bucking his hips, the friction between them seemed to be all the answer that was needed. The shorter man slowed his pace for a moment, and reached back to clumsily wrestle the garment down, finally freeing his rather substantial erection from its prison. He felt his face go hot as he caught Sniper's wide-eyed expression.

"Crikey, that thing's- it's bloody huge! Oh God, truckie, how've you managed to keep that from me..." His speech dissolved into babbles of praise for a moment, and he started pawing at the place on the floor where his pants had fallen, trying to retrieve something. Engineer swallowed audibly and did his best not to look embarrassed; he wasn't that used to his privates being the focus of this much attention.

"Well, you, uh... y'know what they say about Texas," he stuttered. Sniper withdrew a tube of vaseline from somewhere within the heap of clothes, and began to lovingly apply some to Engineer's exposed flesh. He panted and sank back onto the couch as Sniper sat up and lavished attention on his most sensitive parts. After a few moments of this, it was all he could do to clench his fingers into Sniper's shoulders and struggle to hold back his release.

Then all of a sudden, the maddening caresses were gone. Engineer could feel the cushions shift, and he opened his eyes to look curiously down at his partner. Sniper's face was tense with concentration. The man had spread his milk-pale thighs and reached one hand between them. It was hard not to stare as Sniper nudged his balls to one side, then snaked two grease-slicked fingers down and started oiling himself, so desperate that he arched his back and pushed into his own touch, gasping for breath. "I... I dunno what you think of th-this sort of thing, but... fuck, I really- I need t'feel you inside me... please, truckie..."

Engineer leaned over the squirming man and gently shushed him with a kiss, then took the tube of vaseline from his hand and murmured, "Hey, stretch... what're friends for? I think we both need this..." He grasped Sniper's left thigh and parted his legs further, then lifted it up against the backrest of the couch. The Australian's hand was jostled away in the process, and Engineer moved his real, flesh-and-blood fingers down to take its place. Sniper threw his head back and sucked in a hiss of breath between his teeth, clawing at the cushions for purchase as Engineer prepared him, and whispered soft words of reassurance. "Shhh... you just relax, you know I'd never hurt you... Feels good, don't it? I've had more practice than y'think, and I've been waitin' so long for this... I'll be gentle, darlin', I'll take good care of you..."

"C'mon, mate," Sniper panted, looking up at Engineer with an expression of mixed hunger and heart-twisting tenderness. "Lemme have it. All of it. I'll bite me lip if I haf'to."

With a shuddering sigh, Engineer moved in and slowly took the other man. Choked cries escaped Sniper; he felt metal fingertips digging into his thigh, spreading his legs painfully, and a faint tickle of pubic hair against his most sensitive skin. The sensation of fullness seemed to slip away, then returned as Engineer pushed into him again, forcing a grunt of pain from his throat.

"It's alright, just breathe deep now... we can start out nice an' slow..." Engineer shifted his hips and lay his body against Sniper, who was writhing like an animal in heat, completely overwhelmed by physical sensations. Rangy arms suddenly wrapped around the Texan and clutched at him, short nails scrabbling into his flesh, as he made love to Sniper at a relaxed pace. He reached behind the Australian's head and ruffled his messy hair, then soothed him, stroking the back of his neck. "Don't wanna' burn yourself out, pard'ner... there now, that's right. In and out."

Sniper seemed to have lost his powers of speech, and for a few moments the only sounds from him were panting and lustful growls; this gave way to more relaxed breathing as his body adjusted to the situation. He still clung to Engineer, and his words were hot against the American's cheek, hot with arousal and need. "Ffff... fuck, you're- don't stop, ahh, please... you're bleedin' incredible, truckie. Nngh, and- and huge. Was a little worried y'wouldn't fit inside me, for a moment there..."

Engineer nipped at the marksman's clavicle, leaving a reddish welt. (Like a brand,) he thought absentmindedly, and grinned. "Hey now, I said I'd take good care of ya. Wouldn't be-" He was interrupted as a soft groan rose in his chest, overwhelmed for a moment as pain and pleasure came trickling down his flanks. Sniper's fingers had found purchase on the tensed muscles of his back, and were digging into places which sorely needed that kind of attention. "...wouldn't be gentlemanly ta start out by plowing your furrow so hard you broke in half, would it?"

"Don't stop," Sniper repeated, struggling to raise his voice above a whimper. He pressed his cheek against Engineer's crown and rocked to match the other man's pace, unable to focus on much more than the feeling inside him. The sofa creaked beneath them as Engineer picked up the pace, and all of his thoughts turned to friction, friction between sweat-slicked limbs, between hard and yielding flesh. Raw instinct provided all the direction he needed now, millions of years' worth of data, distilled and passed down by whichever subjects had the most interest in fucking. Even a union such as theirs had its place in biology, Engineer thought as he rutted against his lover; if Sniper's gasps and ecstatic writhing were any indication, this was doing wonders for his will to survive.

Then Sniper was wrapping himself tighter around Engineer and trembling violently, all his exertion suddenly coming to a crest. He threw his head back and sunk his teeth into his lip to stifle a cry, shivering as he rode out the waves of powerful, mindless sensations that were crashing over him. Their bellies were suddenly slicker as sweat mingled with the marksman's release, and Engineer felt himself pushed over the edge as well. He gasped, he groaned, he reared back like a breaching whale, then felt himself falling, tumbling forwards into the loving embrace of dark seas below.

* * *

The depths were stiflingly hot, and wet. As Engineer lounged in the darkness, he could feel that he was lying amidst steam and sweat and semen. And yet, this abyss was a place of indescribable comforts... he was rocked by the gentle heaving of his resting place, was softly caressed by the long limbs that encircled him, felt warm waves kiss his back, his throat, his cheek...

(I need fresh air or I'm gonna' choke, it's too hot down here...) he thought, although even his thoughts right now were fuzzy and indistinct. Reluctantly, Engineer began to surface. He slid his elbows down until he felt rougher terrain, then pushed himself up and lifted his head, taking in a deep breath.

He found himself in a secluded corner of his workshop, lying on Sniper and entangled in the Australian's rangy limbs. Sniper was panting but lucid, and he looked up at Engineer, a tender, if slightly crooked smile on his sweaty face. "That was bloody amazing, truckie..." he said breathlessly, and lifted a hand to stroke Engineer's cheek.

Engineer's face went beet-red, and he looked away, smiling bashfully. "Well, I got a certain standard of work ethic, y'know? ...just doin' my best."

Sniper chuckled, and pulled the other man down against his chest; they shifted and squirmed around on the couch until Engineer was half-laying on Sniper, resting his head on the gunman's shoulder. They were both hot, sticky and sweaty, but neither had a strong desire to leave any time soon. After blindly searching the heap of clothes on the floor, Sniper found a pack of smokes, and lit one up to share between them.

"Wonder if it's too early to sleep the afternoon away," Sniper murmured, absentmindedly rubbing his forehead. Engineer reached over his head and snagged an ashtray off the nearby end-table, then set it down on his chest. "Can't think of anything I'd rather be doing right now, than lying here with you..."

"I reckon we'll hafta shower eventually," Engineer said, although he looked quite content where he was. He gazed up at the sharpshooter's small, keen eyes, and couldn't think of anything to say that body language wouldn't communicate better. Sniper, who was never habitually talkative in the first place, seemed to feel the same way; the two men smoked in comfortable silence, then put the ashtray aside and engaged in some relaxed cuddling, until light caresses and nibbling gave way to sleep.


	8. Too Good to be True

( _Author's note: This is what I called "the knock-down, drag-out" when I was working on the story. Sniper puts paid to that adage about two wrongs making a right._ )

* * *

Deep down, Sniper worried it was too good to be true. As he woke up in the workshop a few hours later, as he and Engineer washed the sex off their bodies, even as they took care to appear for dinner a few minutes apart, he still felt nagging uncertainty as he tried to think about what kind of a future they might have together. (I shouldn't get so worked up over this,) he thought later, sneaking away to the ramparts for a smoke. (Everyone knows me and him are good mates. It'll be just like before, except with more shagging. Not like people here keep a constant watch on each other, or start asking questions when they see two blokes heading off together. Besides, I'm well enough prepared to stake out good hiding places. Nobody knows the layout of these bases better than I do, I'd put money on that.)

He was so preoccupied in thinking as he stepped out into the evening air, that he didn't check the ramparts for company until he had sat down and lit a cigarette. Then he noticed a familiar figure, slouched morosely against a wall and frowning back at him.

"Still suffering from a 'angover, Mssr. Mundy? You seem disturbed." It was Spy, who seemed singularly unsympathetic, and not terribly friendly to boot. Sniper found this a positive change from his recent encounters with the Frenchman, at least the ones he could remember clearly.

"What's it t'you?" he grunted, snorting out a plume of smoke. "Don't remember askin' for your help with anything, you bloody frog."

Spy wrinkled his nose. "Your ingratitude troubles me. Hmph, it's what I 'ave come to expect from you, though. Particularly after last night."

"I don't remember you doin' anything for me last night," Sniper said, but he was suddenly feeling guarded and uncertain. Truth be told, his memories of the whole affair were kind of blurred; he had some recollection of the conversation they had outside the bar, but mostly the part of it where they started grinding against each other and Engineer broke them up. (What was he talking about before that?)

He had either done a poor job of hiding his uncertainty, or there were significant gaps in his memory, because Spy suddenly looked more irate than before. "Of course you don't, you were drunk out of your fucking mind. Who do you think was looking after you ze whole time you 'ad blacked out? Trou-de-cul, I should stab you for what you put me through."

Sniper wasn't certain if Spy was bluffing, or just enhancing the truth. He did his best to be deadpan, and appreciated the concealment of his glasses. "Oi, are you deaf now? I said, I don't remember asking you for help."

"I never said you were ze one who asked me to help you," Spy snarled through gritted teeth. "Engineer said to look after your pathetic carcass. ...ugh, I should 'ave known you'd block it out of your memory! To think I even apologized for my indiscretions against you, I suppose you 'ave forgotten zat, too?"

Spy's anger seemed fairly genuine; Sniper had known the man to feign emotions before, but not in any way that suggested he was losing his cool. Always appearing to have the upper hand was a vital part of the chameleon's mindgames, and to show indignation would be as good as admitting things hadn't gone according to plan. (He's got too much pride to fake a temper tantrum,) Sniper thought, and a sneer tugged at his mouth. "You did? Well, that's a nice start- now piss off." This probably wasn't what he was hoping to hear, and to Sniper's amazement, he actually started for the door inside, muttering obscenities. Although sorely tempted to ask what happened to Spy's usual witty repartee, the Australian settled for smug silence.

A sudden kick to the ribs made Sniper cough in surprise, losing his cigarette off the ramparts. He looked over his shoulder to see the other man continuing towards the door, and realized that a jab from one of those pointy shoes was the best retort Spy could manage right now. Before words or any rational thoughts had even surfaced in his mind, Sniper's rage and raw instinct took hold of him; with predatory swiftness, he turned and rose to a crouch, then tackled Spy's legs from behind.

The masked man toppled like a scarecrow in the wind, and gave a startled yelp. He managed to throw himself off to one side and kept his head from smacking into the floor, but he didn't have time to assume a defensive posture before Sniper pounced again, pushing him to the ground and straddling his chest to pin him there.

"D'you think I'm a bleedin' dog?" Sniper growled, and started punching Spy's undefended face. Truthfully, his current appearance was more than a little bestial; Sniper's Akubra had fallen by the wayside, exposing his unstyled mane of dark brown hair, and his lips were drawn back in an unsettling, fanged snarl.

The bushman had a few inches on Spy and a little more bulk, but his close-quarters combat experience was largely against other animals - Spy had always been an assassin, and what he lacked in physical heft, he made up for in speed and expertise. A sharp blow to the wrist left Sniper's free hand briefly disabled, and Spy used the opening to deliver a crippling punch to the trachea. "You behave like one, you filthy bastard! You never wash your 'air, you urinate in public places, you- you vomited on my suit like an animal! And now you 'ave ze gall to attack me? I should 'ave left you to choke in your own filth!"

Sniper fell to the floor and curled up like a caterpillar, clutching at his throat as he made choked, painful attempts at breathing. The other man sprang to his feet and took the opportunity to begin savagely kicking at Sniper's exposed back, stomping and smashing pointed toes into his ribs and the softer places below them. "I'll beat you so 'ard you'll be pissing blood for a week!" he spat, giving the marksman another boot to the kidneys.

White lights flashed in Sniper's eyes with each kick. He was operating on survival instincts now, everything forgotten but the struggle to overcome the enemy, and even in his current position he knew curling up and suffering the abuse would not do. (Not this time. Not in the jungle. Not in that hole. Hands aren't tied,) he thought abstractly, before he rolled away from another attack and scrambled unsteadily to his feet.

Spy actually looked surprised. "I seem to 'ave underestimated your pain threshold, mon petit con." He strode towards Sniper, drawing his left hand back; as he made a feint the taller man fell for it, and was rewarded with a fist to the solar plexus. "Hahahahhn, quelle blague!"

The Frenchman cackled hysterically as Sniper stumbled back, coughing and choking. The laughter turned to agony a moment later - even doubled-over in pain, grimacing as the taste of bile flooded his mouth, Sniper was still trying to turn the situation to his favour. He clenched his teeth and lunged quite unexpectedly at Spy, grabbing the slighter man's shoulders and smashing his head into Spy's face.

Spy howled, which inspired him to repeat the move a few more times. A ringing cacophony sounded in his ears, but he ignored it for the time being. There were more important matters to attend. Once he was certain the man's features were imprinted on his skull, Sniper clamped his hands around Spy's throat; they both lost their balance and slumped down in a heap. Then he redoubled his grip and began slamming his victim's head against the floor. Before he could reduce Spy's skull to a shattered ruin, something completely unexpected caught him off-guard, and he relented.

A bucketful of icy water had landed on the two combatants. Sniper looked up stupidly at the culprit, and saw it was Medic, flanked by Engineer. He noticed the shorter of the two had a saucepan in each hand, which only deepened his sense of confusion. Before he could try to speak - although at this point, he wasn't sure if he were able - a rough pair of hands yanked him off of Spy and hauled him to his feet. The change in elevation brought on a wave of pain and nausea so overwhelming, it was all he could do not to just pass out.

"STAND UP STRAIGHT, MAGGOT!" The familiar voice of Soldier came at the back of his head like a sledgehammer, and Sniper realized who was holding him up. He did his best to stay vertical, but after a few wobbly seconds, it was clear he needed assistance. Soldier gripped his shoulders and resumed shouting. "YOU are going to tell me just WHAT IN THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE, KIWI! Deadly force is to be reserved for use against ENEMIES, and ONLY ENEMIES! Unless that's the BLU spy on the ground, in which case, good work!"

Sniper tried to say 'I'm not a fuckin' kiwi', but it came out as a weak rasping sound.

"Nein, his disguise vould heff stopped working after being savaged like that. It's ze spy from our team." Medic looked rather irate as he set down the pail, then kneeled to examine Spy's wounds. A garbled choking noise was the first sign of life from the masked man, who started trying to shift his position on the ground; as soon as the doctor helped him sit up, he disgorged a mess of blood and teeth, then coughed and struggled to compose himself.

"...fils-dthh-puthhaing... mon fithhage, qu'eth... ugh, merdthh." It was hard to tell if Spy's slurring was more due to brain injury or the number Sniper's cranium had done on his mouth, but he sounded pretty pissed off. He didn't shun Medic's help, though - at least, not until he was also dragged to his feet. Then he made some incomprehensible sounds of objection, before slouching unconscious against his captor.

"Fighting among team-mates... zis sort of delinquency shouldn't go unpunished," Medic said sourly, then glanced between Soldier and Engineer. "If it vas my decision, I vould subject them to traditional surgery for zer wounds, and leave them to regret their misconduct for ze rest of ze weekend. ...vhat is your suggestion, Herr Soldier? Herr Engineer?"

"Hmm..." Soldier frowned thoughtfully for a moment, then shouted, "TEN-MILE FORCED MARCH, TO BE STARTED IMMEDIATLY! Get back to me in the morning for more punishment ideas, Doc'. I'm sure I'll come up with something good while I discipline these maggots!" He shook Sniper for emphasis, and the Australian started to slip bonelessly from his grasp.

Engineer had been quiet up until this point, but he gave a yelp of surprise and abandoned the saucepans with a clatter, scrambling to catch Sniper before he could collapse. A tense sigh escaped the Texan as he carefully settled his friend on the floor, and gestured for Medic to do the same with Spy. Then he stood and straightened his helmet, a brooding expression on his face. "Given my druthers, I'd ask that ya heal 'em up well enough they won't wind up in respawn, and leave the rest to me. If either of 'em dies while you're pokin' around inside him, he'll be up and runnin' around in a minute, lookin' to start more trouble. And they'd both hafta' be all patched up t'do any marching at this hour- which I'm afraid to say, I don't think they'd do, given the chance to just start fighting again."

Engineer paused to clear his throat while the other two thought over his suggestion. Medic seemed vaguely disappointed at the thought of missing out on some good old-fashioned vivisection, although there were other things he could do for fun on a Saturday night. Soldier was probably pugnacious enough to spend the rest of the weekend in a knock-down, drag-out with two of the team's flyweights, but he was willing to hear what Engineer had in mind. "What's the logic behind your plan, private?"

"If they're injured but not on death's door, they'll be too weak t'cause any trouble. I'll give 'em a night to cool off, then tomorrow morning, I'm gonna' drag those boys into the store-room and they can stay there 'til they've talked things over to my satisfaction. I know neither of them does a lotta' front-line fighting, but that doesn't mean they can go around squabbling like little kids. ...everyone on this base has gotta' be ready, willing and able to get along and work as a team, or our success could be seriously compromised, you get what I'm sayin'?"

Soldier nodded slowly, digesting the details of Engineer's idea. "...I suppose we'll go with your plan, for the time being. Could be the most strategically viable approach. If they don't want to listen to reason, though, I'm prepared to follow through with alternative measures." He stooped to pick up Sniper, hefting the taller man into his arms and holding him against his barrel chest. "PRIVATE! You will assist in moving these miscreants to the infirmary! Doc, prepare the Medi-gun, or the nuclear leeches, or whatever it is you use to stop internal bleeding. NOW MOVE!"

* * *

As he carried Spy to the Medic's infirmary, Engineer's head was throbbing with a full-blown migraine; he could feel his stomach doing somersaults. The goggles helped to dim his view of the world, but between the stench of Spy's blood and the whirlwind of trouble on his mind, he knew he couldn't control his nausea much longer. Entering the infirmary, Engineer saw Soldier setting the marksman down on the examination table, and he hastened to unload his own battered cargo on the nearest appropriate surface.

"Just place him on zat gurney, Herr Engineer, I can tend to him in a minute," Medic said absentmindedly, then paused to give the mechanic a second look. He had just put Spy down, and was now clutching uncertainly at his mouth, grimacing as he fought with his rising gorge. The doctor sighed and gestured towards a door across the room. "Ach je... you are ill? Ze toilet is through zere, schnell!"

(What in the hell was he thinking, getting in a fight with one of his own team-mates? On company property, no less? Dammit, I didn't want to spend the night like this... sick and wound-up tight, worrying about him... Why'd he have to go and do that? What's going on between him and Spy? Has this got something to do with the other night, when I saw them outside the bar?) As he huddled on the floor of the infirmary's small bathroom, Engineer's mind was spinning with thoughts like these. The room seemed to be spinning, too, and his stomach lurched as it violently rejected its contents.

Someone knocked at the door. "...be out in a minute," he managed to croak, and coughed wetly. Kneeling in front of a toilet wasn't something he had planned for the evening, but he needed a moment to catch his breath and pull himself back together.

"You alright in there, Engie?" It was Soldier.

Engineer fumbled with the lever, then flushed away his dinner and rose shakily to his feet. He turned to the sink. "...yeah, 's just a migraine... feelin' a little better now, but I... I think I oughta' call it a night..."

He heard no reply from outside while he cleaned his face off, but when Engineer opened the door, he was surprised to see Soldier standing there. The larger American was peering out from under his helmet, an expression of concern on his face. After a moment of awkward silence, he cleared his throat and gently clapped a hand against Engineer's shoulder. "If you say so, private. ...I'll help Doc' clean up the mess from Punch and Judy over there, you go get some sleep."

Lying in the dark stillness of his room, Engineer could feel his discomfort ease off a little, but it didn't do much for his emotional state. He was worried, and furious with Sniper to boot. (He told me he hates Spy, but he didn't say he was gunning for a fight with the guy. What the hell was that all about? Spy can be a real pain in the ass, but I can't imagine he'd do something low enough to justify a serious brawl. ...would he? ...I know I can't get any answers until tomorrow, but... dammit! Why does it feel like I'm doomed to lose sleep over Mundy, no matter what I do?) Rubbing his forehead and wishing desperately that sleep would overtake him, Engineer sighed and did his best to stop thinking about anything in particular. (...all I can do is hope that Spy was asking for it...)


	9. Languishing

( _Author's note: I intentionally cast Medic as the uninformed onlooker to Engineer's mediation, in part because I imagine he'd want to watch anyhow, and in part because I wanted to omit the thoughts of any of the three arguing parties to keep things impartial. Also, because I just plain like Medic._

_I'm not someone who likes to write antagonists being shitty for no good reason, and having human feelings makes a villain more interesting to me, than pointless moustache-twirling evil. Even though he's more or less the "bad guy" in this story, I tried to depict RED Spy as the former, rather than the latter. Inversely, I don't see Engineer as a sweet, cuddly teddy-bear; he's soft-spoken and amiable, but even he himself admits to being "wolverine-mean". I imagine his bad side is not a comfortable place to be.  
_

_Morphine is still in common use today. I can tell you from personal experience that can sure dull your pain, but the side-effects are their own kind of discomfort._ )

* * *

In the small hours of the morning, another member of the RED team found himself in the clutches of an explosively painful headache. Spy wasn't given to occasional migraines, but as the fog started lifting from his mind, he remembered that this wasn't the result of illness or severe tension. Medic's treatment had spared him any serious brain damage, and left him with a pretty clear memory of the fight with Sniper - at least, up until the point where man had started smashing his head against the concrete floor. Things were kind of patchy after that.

An unpleasant, raspy sound intruded on his consciousness. He tried to rise from the bed where he lay, but the pain of his injuries drove him back down immediately, leaving him weak and nauseous. (What did that disgusting savage do to me? Where am I now?) Spy found that he could look around without much trouble, provided he didn't move much or turn his head. He realized he was hearing someone's choked breathing; a curtain was placed between himself and the other man. (This must be the infirmary. Why would they leave me to languish here with grievous head wounds, when the doctor's Medi-gun could have healed me in moments? Did he have something more important to do? A monkey could operate that thing, it can't be any harder than holding the lever down. ...what if it's broken? Or malfunctioning?)

Fear gripped Spy as he wondered if the Medi-gun was broken; he nervously licked his parched lips, then discovered something reassuring. (I have all my teeth back. I'm positive I'd lost some when Mundy was head-butting me, so this means I've been healed.) He lifted a hand to his face, and found out only too late that it was in worse shape than his teeth; it was all he could do to stifle a yelp of pain as his fingers brushed against the crushed cartilage of his nose. Spy realized that his features were probably a mess of bruises right now. His balaclava was starting to feel like a painful inconvenience, a blood-crusted cast over a throbbing, poorly-set extremity.

(Alright. So the Medic didn't see fit to repair all of my wounds. What the fuck would he do that for? Some kind of sick experiment?) Impotent rage boiled in Spy's chest, and the rattling sound of his room-mate's breath was becoming irritating. It could only be Sniper. (I must have injured his trachea when I punched him... good. He deserves to suffer, the son of a bitch. I can only hope I ruptured something while I was working him over, that would teach him to attack me from behind.)

Spy closed his eyes, and tried to meditate on getting back to sleep. The pain and the sounds in the darkness were a persistent distraction, though, and he found his mind wandering. He wondered how much of this he had brought on himself. (This is what I get for trying to woo that dirty bushman... I should have been more sensible about my approach. Should have waited until he was sober to try talking things over with him. Should have exercised more patience. ...I was too impulsive about my plans, that's where I went wrong.) With nobody to see him and no company but his own thoughts, Spy could afford the luxury of being honest; the only price was the agony of admitting that he'd made mistakes, and in its own way, that was a nice distraction from the pain he was in. He wasn't blind to human suffering - a fact that he sometimes regretted - but tuning it out in pursuit of his own ends had come easily over the years. Empathy was only useful as a tool for understanding another person's motives.

He started to frown, then stopped as the movement made his face ache. (I'm better off trying to relax. ...if only I had something for the pain. This is like some sort of punishment.) It occurred to Spy that this was a distinct possibility, and he felt a surge of anger that brought on more white-hot agony. His consciousness waned mercifully, but returned after a few moments of stillness and left him feeling as lousy as before.

At length, Spy's emotions turned to some semblance of regret, and he finally found he was considering Sniper's perspective on this whole ugly affair. Thinking about the other man's unhappiness left a bad taste in his mouth; it was easier to ignore higher emotions and focus on sexual pleasure alone, but the blackmail had clearly overshadowed any release Sniper felt from the incident. Spy sighed, letting his body sag into the thin mattress. (I can begrudge him for attacking me, but... not for being angry. This really is my fault, more than his. ...I suppose I have no choice in the matter, we'll need to have words again. ...if he's willing to listen.)

* * *

Spy knew he must have drifted off at some point, because he was awoken by footsteps and a weird hissing noise. He opened his eyes a bit, and found he was feeling marginally better than he had before - well enough to move a little, anyhow. Turning his head slightly, he saw shapes moving on the other side of the partition beside his bed. (Medic... I wonder if I'm fit enough to strangle the life out of him when he comes over here...) The odd noise from before repeated itself, and Spy realized he was hearing Sniper beg for painkillers.

"Ah, I see zat you are awake, Herr Sniper. ...vhat are you saying? Medicine? I'm not sure... zis is not my prescription, you see, I vould heff let zer respawn take care of your injuries. ...you are feeling sick? Morphine could make zat worse, my friend." Although their features were obscured, Spy could see the doctor leaning close to his other patient, whose voice was raspy and indistinct. After a meaningful pause, Medic straightened up and ruffled Sniper's hair. "Oh, very well. ...you know I can't stand seeing people suffer, hmm? I'll give you a shot."

As Medic started towards the locked cabinet where the drugs were kept, Spy cleared his throat, and spoke. "What a pleasant surprise, Docteur. I presume zere is a good explanation for all of... zis?"

Medic's tone was crisp and a bit smug. "Good morning, Herr Spy, I'm glad you are coherent. I vas curious to see vhat state you'd be in now, but it seems my technique vas a success- you're awake, and even talking! Can you see?"

"Pardon?" Spy squinted across the room at the good doctor, who was drawing a dose of morphine for Sniper. Beside him, he could hear some choked noises from the Australian, but it was clear that both of them were too weak to continue last night's brawl.

"Can you see anything, Herr Spy? Ze back of your cranium vas positively crushed, you vould be dead or utterly incapacitated if it vasn't for ze medi-gun. I vas told to repair ze worst of your injuries, so you vould be cognizant of your situation."

It was a moment before Spy could speak without resorting to obscenities. "Well. ...yes, my eyes are working normally. A shot of morphine now, if you would? As you can see, I am awake and very cognizant of ze situation: I am in excruciating pain."

"I suppose it's only fair," Medic sighed, fetching a second needle. He tended to Sniper first, murmuring affectionately to the marksman as one would to a sick child, and smoothing back his wildly tousled locks. Sniper spoke back, but he was still too hoarse to be easily understood. Then Medic moved around the partition and cleaned the inside of Spy's left elbow with an iodine-soaked swab. Although he wasn't phobic of needles, Spy was already sufficiently dizzy that he didn't want to press his luck, and he closed his eyes while Medic administered the drug. Fainting from an injection would just be embarrassing.

"So, 'ow long do you plan on 'olding us like zis, Medic? I certainly 'ope you have a fucking good reason to subject members of your own team to unnecessary, inhumane treatment." Spy couldn't glower at the doctor, so a chilly tone of voice was the best he could do for now.

Medic looked down at him with an expression of mild amusement. "As I vas saying before to Herr Sniper, zis vas not my idea of discipline. It vas zer Engineer's. ...he should be arriving later zis morning; from vhat I understand, he believes ze both of you need a mediated discussion of your... differences, and didn't trust you not to start fighting like cats and dogs if I restored you to health."

Spy was dumbstruck. (Engineer told him to do this? It seems I underestimated the American's capacity for ruthlessness... This punishment makes sense, in a cruelly pragmatic way. We inflicted these injuries on each other- the rest of the group had no part in that. Unless we're needed on the battlefield, nothing in our contract says the company is required to keep us in fighting form. ...I suppose once we've come to a gentleman's agreement, we'll be patched up. Until then... we have no contractual obligation to be friends, but we are required to work together. As a team. Engineer must know this, too. ...I didn't think he had the stomach to let his friend suffer.)

Peering through the barrier, Spy could see the blurred figure of Sniper, laying prostrate on a gurney. He felt a mix of sadism and guilt; if his own physical state was any indication, the bushman was probably in fantastic pain right now. (We take some things for granted here, don't we? It's only when you're flat on your back with a crushed skull that you have the time to see the error of your ways. ...or with a bruised set of kidneys, I suppose.) Spy lay down again and closed his eyes, trying not to groan in pain. "I... I see. Ze labourer can wake me up when 'e arrives, I suppose."

"Ja, of course." Medic had locked up the magical mystery cabinet again. Considering the people he was working with, Spy couldn't blame the man for keeping his drugs sealed away from everyone else.

As the doctor settled down to study some papers, peace and quiet descended on the room, something for which Spy was quite grateful. The painkiller didn't give him much in the way of euphoria, but he did find himself feeling drowsy and unfocused, which was sort of an improvement. His consciousness was submerged under a mixture of fatigue, drug-induced confusion and indifference, and for a while he wavered between napping and a muffled awareness of his surroundings. Spy thought he might have seen Medic checking on him a few times, or heard him at Sniper's bedside, but it was hard to worry about anything for very long.

Some time later, he awoke to the sound of Medic's voice; on the other side of the barrier, the doctor was muttering to himself and tending to his other patient. Something clattered as it was set down on the floor. "Ach, er erbrach. Dummkopf, Ich habe dich gewarnt..."

Sniper's voice was hoarse and indistinct. "...sorry, doc'... don't hurt so much's before. ah Christ, this's a right clusterfuck..."

Medic sounded surprised for a moment, as though his mind were on other things. "Ah- ze analgesic is working, you say? Gut, sehr gut. You just try and sleep some more, hmm? Herr Engineer should be here very soon, zhen he vill be looking after you and zer spy."

"...aw, no... don't wan' 'im seein' me like this... please, doc..."

Even in the midst of an opium haze, Spy caught a pleading note in the Australian's voice. Something about this set off a blinking light in his mind. (Sniper is mortified at the thought of Engineer seeing him in a wretched state. ...doesn't want to appear weak to Engineer? Doesn't want Engineer to worry? I wonder...) Both possibilities nagged at Spy, but he wasn't prepared to form any conclusions yet.

Spy's mind drifted off again, but returned to earth a few moments later when he heard the infirmary door open. Lifting his head and squinting, he saw Engineer enter the room, and Medic approached the little guy with a towel in hand. "Herr Engineer, zhey heff been waiting for you! How are you zis morning? Headache all gone? Zhere are pills I can give you, ze next time you feel one coming on."

Engineer waved Medic off; he had left his helmet and goggles in the workshop, but a wide-brimmed cowboy had offered shade for his usually-friendly face, and today it was not so friendly for a change. "Nothin' much seems ta work aside from good old-fashioned bedrest. How are our pugilists doin'? Not screamin' to be put out of their misery, I see. Does it look like either of 'em got up in the night, and tried to start where they'd left off before?" From his place near the door, Engineer peered over at the two patients. Spy squinted back at him, but the little guy's expression was unmoved by the sight of his injured team-mates.

"Nein, neither of zhem hess moved from his bed. Where vas it you are planning to take zhem for ze discussion you had planned?" Medic arched an eyebrow curiously, and paused to glance over at Spy and Sniper as well. "I may heff to administer another application of ze Medi-gun if you intend to leave ze infirmary vith zhem, both seem to be... well, zhey are still quite incapacitated. If I had to guess, I vould say zhey were trying to kill each ozzer."

"You have anything planned in here over the next few hours, Doc?" Engineer asked, turning to Medic. The tall German shook his head, and Engineer looked back to the other two men. "Maybe we'll just have that chat in here, then, if you don't mind. I'm pretty sure they've cooled off by now, but I'm not in the mood for breakin' up a scuffle."

* * *

Medic helped Engineer move the screen that separated the feuding pair, then pulled up a chair for the Texan and stepped back to watch the proceedings. There were various reasons he could have cooked up to explain his interest in observing this discussion, but Engineer hadn't asked for any, and both of them knew the truth: it was schadenfreude. (He must be feeling pretty short with those two. I had almost expected him to question my perverse curiosity... on the other hand, I'm the one who helped facilitate his plan by giving them a place to languish. It isn't like he'd have the gall to try and kick me out of my own surgery.)

Beyond the harmless enjoyment of seeing others in pain, Medic had other reasons to watch - he was an avid researcher, after all, and even data he'd never planned on gathering might someday be useful. Humans were fascinating animals in every respect, and Medic loved seeing them interact, particularly when bloodshed might result. As he sat down by a supply cabinet, one of the doves came to roost by his head (Archimedes? Or are you Juvenal?); Medic smiled and studied the two men who had beaten each other within an inch of their lives, only to be denied the convenience of the respawn system.

"I suppose y'all have figured out why we're here by now," Engineer said, frowning beneath his ridiculously American hat. Spy looked like he wanted to frown back, but was incapable of doing so; while the serious damage to his brain and the back of his skull had been repaired by the Medi-gun, the injuries to his face were gruesome and not at all life-threatening. He looked like he'd been stomped on by an elephant - his nose was nearly crushed flat, both cheekbones fractured, and there was so much swelling around his eyes that he could barely open them. His lower jaw had fared better, but the only reason Medic had seen fit to let his teeth grow back was so that he wouldn't choke on his own blood while he slept.

Spy gave a hoarse sigh. "If I am not mistaken, zis is your idea of punishment. Mssr. Mundy jumped me last night, and I... retaliated, in full force. You probably wish to know why. I will take my 'ypothesis a step further, and suggest you also wish to see zat we agree to no such altercations in ze future."

"...right," Sniper rasped, fidgeting as he leaned against the headrest on his bed. Where Spy's face was swollen and bruised, his was pale, glistening with sweat. The Medi-gun had sealed the tears in his ruptured organs, but Medic could tell just by looking that he hadn't slept well. What the morphine had done for his pain, it hadn't done for the accompanying nausea, and Sniper seemed sicker now than before he'd been given the shot. His throat was an ugly shade of purple.

Engineer nodded slowly, a humorless frown still chiseled into his features, something that even Medic found unsettling - like a house with no windows or a fish with no eyes, it seemed almost aberrant. "Aye-ffirmative. ...look, boys, you both know how things work around this place. You're not bein' paid to be friends, but you are bein' paid to win fights. This team is supposed to operate like a well-oiled machine. However the individual parts might feel about each other, they've all gotta' work together with precision - the kinda precision that can only come with trust. If two members of this team can't pass each other in the hall without tradin' nasty looks, how can the rest of us count on them t'put their differences aside in the heat of battle and do whatever's necessary to win? How can either of them stick his neck out for a guy, when all he's thinkin' about is how that same fella' might come after him in the locker room?

"Furthermore: if this kinda' feud starts affectin' the team's success in the field, how d'you think the RED company is gonna' be feelin' when it comes time to rotate this crew? They can't just terminate our contracts out of the blue, but they can ship us out t'somewhere so wretched and so insignificant, we'll all be prayin' that respawn goes down so we can freeze to death and escape this world for good."

Medic twisted open a thermos of tea and leaned back in his chair, watching the two miscreants squirm as Engineer spoke. Everyone on the team was so accustomed to Soldier's tirades, it was easy to ignore him and carry on with whatever business was at hand. Medic regularly saw his team-mates eating, dressing, and even shaving without so much as a flinch, while the lantern-jawed American bawled them out. When Engineer was delivering a stern lecture, though, it seemed these men felt they had no choice but to listen. Medic wondered if it was respect for the most educated man on the team, or if in their weakened state, Spy and Sniper just couldn't raise their usual mental defenses against nagging.

"I understand your position, Engineer," Spy said quietly. "I... spent much of ze night thinking about my actions, and ze incidents zat brought us 'ere. I could try to blame Sniper for our fight, but truth be told, I... ...I 'ave done things zat were unnecessary. Much of ze fault lies with me."

Engineer sat up straighter, looking surprised. Medic couldn't blame him. (I had taken Spy to be a full-blown narcissist. ...well, even a mindless brute can feign emotions when he thinks it will get him out of trouble. Still... if I didn't suspect otherwise, I'd think he was being honest.) The doctor took a sip of tea and glanced at Sniper, who gripped the mattress with one tense, white-knuckled hand, then half-turned and pointed the other one at Spy. After two false starts that could have been mistaken for heaving, he found his voice.

"Unnecessary?" Sniper exclaimed, sounding cracked and hoarse. It must have taken all his strength to yell with a smashed trachea, because he coughed and grimaced from the effort, and was much quieter when he finally managed to speak again. "Fuckin' A, mate! You're bloody right it's your fault, if you- if you hadn't blackmailed me, none of this would have- none of-" He was shaking now, his face twisted into a sharp-toothed grimace of rage. There was something else there too, some other overpowering emotion that left him too choked-up to continue, and he clutched a hand over his face and gritted his teeth.

Medic just listened curiously, doing his best not to interject on the conversation. These were scientific observations, after all, and he didn't want to influence his subjects in any way. Somewhere under the mass of bruises, Spy's eyes were wide as dinner-plates. Engineer was shocked as well, and he started to rise from his chair, then hesitated. (Blackmail? Interesting, it seems this is news to Engineer. ...what a powerful response, he's positively livid! Now, what is it about this that's causing him such strong emotion?) The Texan's face flared red with anger. He started to speak, stopped himself, then sat down and took a deep breath.

"That's a pretty serious accusation there, Sniper. You know what he's talking about, Spy? ...have you been blackmailin' him?" It was clear to Medic that the group's mediator was struggling to control himself, as though something about this development was making it hard for him to stay neutral. Engineer's words were unbiased, but he was giving Spy a murderous look.

Spy lowered his eyes. "As I was saying, I 'ave done things zat were not necessary. ...things I shouldn't 'ave. My regret at 'aving committed zese acts 'as been with me longer than ze injuries to my face, I can assure you. I 'ad... attempted to rectify ze situation on Friday, but by ze time I was able to 'ave a private discussion with Sniper, 'e was quite inebriated and, it seems, unable to form a clear recollection of what I said."

"Yes or no, Spy. Did you commit an act of extortion against that man?" Engineer sounded nonplussed. Sniper, on the other hand, seemed to be having some sort of fit; he had pulled his knees up against his chest and was glaring at them, muttering and shaking with emotion.

A low, defeated groan escaped the masked man. With what must have been a superhuman effort, he cleared his throat and said, "Yes."

Engineer put a hand over his face and rubbed his eyelids, still frowning. "Well, don't that just beat all. That's great. What the hell'm I- ...look, you two, we're gonna' hafta' talk this over until you make up, or make amends, or- or figure out some peaceful resolution to whatever the hell it is you pulled on him, Spy. Now, what happened?" He looked over at Sniper, his expression wavering as underlying emotions picked away at the surface. "What is it he did to you, Mundy?"

To see the normally-aloof marksman reduced to a frothing, snarling animal was singularly unusual, as far as Medic was concerned. What happened next went beyond anything he could have possibly expected, though; at Engineer's question, Sniper paled, then stared at his friend with wide-eyed horror and began shaking his head. "Aw, no... no, I can't- 'm not gonna' talk about- no, no, not- I just- can't tell you about-" Sniper choked on his babbling words, and his chest started to heave; to everyone's surprise, the man was suddenly on his feet and staggering away from his sickbed.

Medic flinched and pointed towards the bathroom. "Raus, raus!" After Sniper had slammed the door and locked it shut behind him, an uneasy mood descended on the infirmary's occupants. Engineer seemed drawn between pursuing the one man, or strangling the other.

"I could be mistaken, Spy, but I think he's pretty upset about what you did. Care ta explain?"

Spy's expression was obscured by all the bruises, but there was a glimmer of remorse in his eyes. Engineer seemed to catch it, too, but it only caused him to deepen his frown. The masked man sagged back against the headrest, then sighed. "I... I will only tell you zat I wronged 'im. Ze details of what 'appened between us, I feel I cannot disclose in good conscience, for 'is sake."

Engineer sprang to his feet and was at Spy's bedside in an instant, his prosthetic fist raised threateningly. "Oh, that's a load of bullshit, Spy! You spill yer guts right now, or I'm gonna' do it for you, y'hear?"

Although tempted to intervene, Medic decided the opportunity to see Engineer savage someone with that murder-weapon was too good to pass up. He leaned forwards, perched on the edge of his seat and watching raptly while the doves descended to pillage his cup of tea.

Even knowing full well that respawn could undo anything Engineer might inflict on him, Spy cringed in genuine alarm. "Wait! Ah, God, just listen to me! ...before you came in 'ere, ze man was 'orrified to know you would see him in zis state. I don't know if 'e didn't want you to worry, or if 'e just wants to be a tough guy, but I am inclined to believe it is ze latter." The Gunslinger emitted a mechanical growl, and Spy winced. "Ze blackmail occurred several days ago, yet 'e 'asn't told you about it! Why do you think zat is? I can tell you why, it is because 'e values 'is pride over everything else!"

At this, Engineer stepped back and lowered his robotic fist, clearly dumbstruck. Medic narrowed his eyes curiously and studied the American's expression, as though the finer details might betray things beyond the scope of his own theories. (That looked like a slap in the face for Engineer. ...does he expect Sniper to tell him about things like this? If the incident involved a breach of contract, I can imagine keeping it a secret. But Spy doesn't seem to be talking about it that way, he makes it sound more like a source of great embarrassment than something Sniper could get fired over.) Curiosity was burning in Medic's chest, and found himself rising from his chair.

"Amylobarbitone is not foolproof, Herr Engineer, but it could encourage our friend here to tell you more about ze matter. ...normally I vould not administer ze drug to someone who is already under ze effect of morphine, but..." Medic chuckled lightly, shrugging his shoulders. "Vhat is ze worst zat might happen, it kills him? Ah- respawn vould even remove ze opiates from his body, and ve could try again in earnest!"

Engineer was still flabbergasted by Spy's words, and it took him a few moments to realize what Medic had said. "Wha- oh, well... I uh, I appreciate the offer, Doc, but I think I'm first gonna' try talkin' with Sniper, see what he has ta say about all this. You just... you keep an eye on Spy, alright? Don't- don't shoot him up with anything unless I say so, I'd rather we get to the bottom of this... y'know, without resortin' to chemical persuasion."

For his part, Spy looked unimpressed at the suggestion of truth serum. He shot Medic a glance that seemed to say "Don't even think of it."

"Very well, Herr Engineer," Medic said politely. Deep down, he was sort of disappointed, but it wouldn't be the last chance he'd ever have to use mind-altering drugs on people. He watched as Engineer set his hat down, and approached the locked door.


	10. Confession, Conclusion

( _Author's note: as mentioned previously, aspects of this story have been toned-down in accordance with rules; __ if you're desperate to see the un-edited version, it can be found at y-gallery, where my username is also Yaddie, and at my tumblr, helpmejesus dot tumblr dot com_ )

* * *

Engineer lightly rapped his knuckles on the door, and spoke quietly. "Hey... Mundy, are you gonna' be okay in there? Is it okay if I come in? We've gotta' talk."

As he waited for an answer, Engineer wrestled with the heavy ball of guilt that had settled in his chest. (Everyone knows we're not supposed to be killing each other around here. He would've been punished one way or another. I just thought this would be the best way to get him and Spy talking about it, and next thing I know, he's having some sort of panic attack and I've got a whole bunch of uncomfortable questions for both of them.) A faint sound got Engineer's attention, and he realized it was the door unlocking. He steeled himself, then slipped inside and closed the door behind him.

There was a sour smell in the air. Sniper had closed the lid over the toilet and was seated on it, draped back against the water tank. He lifted his head, and Engineer felt a heart-wrenching pain when he saw the bushman's despondent face. Tears stung the American's eyes; he clutched a hand over them and leaned back against the door, suddenly feeling like the biggest bastard in the world.

"Jesus, darlin', I'm- th-this is my fault, I shoulda' just let Sarge march your butts across the countryside, and- and minded my own business... I didn't know who started it... Oh God, you didn't deserve any of this." The last thing in the world that Engineer wanted to do right now was cry, but he was having a hard time exercising his will on the situation. His body shook with silent sobs, and he was overwhelmed by the desire to just leave, leave before Sniper had a chance to reject him.

Something brushed against his shoulders. It was Sniper's hands. He uncovered his eyes and looked down to see the taller man, leaning forwards to give him a reassuring hug. "...naw, don't... don't be like that, mate. Y'didn't know any better. ...I shoulda' told you about what happened, but I couldn't bear to. Has Spy blabbed t'you and the Doc about it?"

Engineer shook his head, and held Sniper against him. "He wouldn't say what it was. First he fed me some crap about keepin' it mum fer your sake, but then he- he said somethin' that bothered me. He asked me why you hadn't already told me."

Sniper hung his head and sagged against Engineer. "...dunno if I can talk about it, t'be... perfectly honest. I, I couldn't do it out there. Got sick just thinkin' about it."

"But why? What's so bad that y'can't open up about it?" Engineer was speaking clearly, despite the tears streaming down his face. He gently patted the other man's head, trying to calm himself as much as Sniper. (How in the hell has everything gone wrong so fast? Yesterday afternoon, it felt like all my troubles were over. Is caring about someone supposed to tear you up inside? Is this always going to be about two people trying to hide awful secrets from each other?) "I mean, we both came out about so much this week, I didn't imagine there was... there was anything you wouldn't trust me with."

"'s not about trust. ...is it? Maybe it is, in some way, but... aw God, don't take that badly," Sniper said, and pressed his face against Engineer's collar. "It's- urrgh, it's just too... I can't figure out the right word. 'Humiliating' is close, but... not, not quite right. Christ, truckie, I feel so disgusted with myself. It's bloody pathetic, I know it is, but I- I can't stand the thought of you thinkin' less of me for it."

"You thought I'd hate you for bein' queer, too." Engineer gave a pained sigh, and felt torn between holding him closer in guilt, and pushing him away in resentment. "I love you, and seeing you like this is makin' me feel rotten and helpless. How can I do anything for you, if- if you don't believe that I'm not gonna' turn my back on you?"

The marksman looked up at Engineer, then winced away the tears that were threatening to come, and took a long, deep breath. At length, he spoke. "You're right, I've... well, I've just been so caught up in worrying 'bout how you might see me, I couldn't muster the courage to stick me neck out, y'know? To put more faith in you. I'll-"

Sniper grunted quietly and clutched at his empty stomach, fighting back waves of nausea; the man's pride clearly weighed heavily on him, to the point he couldn't even admit his shame without a struggle. Engineer found himself thinking back to the night he'd found Sniper drunk in the mess hall, and his eyes stung with tears; he put a supporting arm around the bushman's shoulder and gently rubbed his back, trying to ease his tension. After a few moments, Sniper relaxed a little and rested his head against Engineer's collar, breathing steadily.

"...the sneaky bastard overheard us talking," Sniper said, his voice low and hoarse. "He threatened to out me to th'rest of the team, unless I- well, he took me to his bedroom, then sat me down and started to suck- rrgh, then things happened between the two of us." A scowl twisted Sniper's face, and he covered it with his hands, embarrassed to be telling Engineer that he let Spy fuck him, embarrassed at the memory of how good it felt at the time, of how used he felt afterwards. "I should've refused, should've called 'is bluff, but I- I panicked, and just did what 'e wanted."

As Sniper finally got the words out, he shuddered and tightened his grip on Engineer. The little guy held him close, feeling sick rage begin bubbling up inside of him. It was all he could do to control the tension in his body, lest he make a slip with The Gunslinger and break Sniper's shoulder. "You shoulda' told me, or- or someone! I don't rightly know what the law says about extortion of sexual favors, but that man has gotta' pay for what he did to you! Look, it ain't right, just lettin' him do what he wants. Where's the justice in that?"

"Tell who, mate? Tell 'em what? The part where Spy found out I'm a poof, or the part where-" Sniper grimaced for a moment, choking on his words. "...the part where him an' me shagged so he'd keep his mouth shut? You know why I can't launch a formal complaint to the Administrator about this. And it'd only drive more rifts between us all if the team were told. I've been used before for worse reasons... b-but look, I really just wanna' put this behind me. Salvage what's left of my dignity and move forward." He looked up at Engineer and managed a tired, sickly smile for the American, who was still furious and horrified over what he'd learned. "You saw what I did to 'im. Would it really be better for us to drag this out? Fight again? Get more people involved?"

For a moment, Engineer's face was twisted with anguish; as he pulled himself together, he realized that more than anyone else, Sniper had the final say here. The whole affair left a bad taste in his throat, though, and he still felt driven to defend his lover's honour. "How's he gonna' make amends for what he did to you?"

Sniper closed his eyes, frowning thoughtfully. "...I was thinkin' about that on and off, during the night. Got a pretty good idea worked out, although it'd... it'd have to wait for a long weekend. ...'ere, I think for now, you oughta' go let 'em know I haven't died." Engineer nodded, smoothing back Sniper's messy hair.

"Alright, stretch. ...you gonna' be alright?" Letting go of Sniper was the hardest thing he'd done all day, and it hadn't been an easy day by any means. Engineer knew he couldn't show up all puffy-eyed without getting some unwanted questions, though; as quickly as was possible, he ran some cold water from the sink and splashed his face, then ground the palms of his hands against his cheeks and sighed.

The sharpshooter nodded shakily. "Yeah, I just... need a minute t'get me nerves back together. ...bloody hell, I feel awful. Tell Medic to come fix me up, or I'm gonna' drown myself in the toilet and let respawn take care of things."

* * *

Engineer was looking rather grave as he returned to the infirmary; he suspected he was going to need weeks to fully digest what he'd learned, but for now, what mattered most was getting his dear friend healed so things could get back to normal. (Normal? Well... what passes as normal here.) He crossed the room to where Medic was sitting, and ran a hand over his stubbly scalp as he tried to find his voice.

The doctor had become a bored-looking sculpture of a man with an empty cup, festooned with live, cooing pigeons. He turned his head as the little guy approached, spooking most of the birds away. "Hmm? Vhat is ze patient's condition, Herr Engineer?"

"He's agreed not ta cause any more trouble with Spy," Engineer said, sounding a bit rough. "Would you heal him up with the Medi-gun? There ain't any reason t'have him takin' up space in your surgery now."

"Ja, I suppose you're right... ze worst of his injuries were repaired last night, anyways. I vouldn't heff much to operate on, even if I vanted ze practice now!" Medic laughed a little too loudly, and went to retrieve his miraculous healing gun. With Medic out of the way, Engineer stalked over to Spy's bedside.

Spy looked understandably wary to have the Texan leaning over him, staring down with those piercing blue eyes. He swallowed audibly. "I assume 'e told you what happened. ...I know you 'ave little reason to believe me, Engineer, but I am truly sorry for what I-" The bed jumped as a deadly knot of metal claws crashed down beside Spy's head, bursting the foam pillow and tearing a hole in the mattress. Spy's discomfort had robbed him of his usual deadpan, and it was probably all he could do to just lay there, rigid with wide-eyed terror.

Engineer's voice was low and ruthless. "...you can think of me as a hypocrite, or a bully, or whatever the hell you want, but I don't trust you. If I catch you sayin' so much as boo t'my friend Sniper, I'm gonna' make you wish you were dead. Got it?"

The masked man nodded, his emotions settling down to a state of grim acceptance. "Attacking me won't change what I did. It won't 'elp ze situation, either. You think Mssr. Mundy wanted blood? 'e got it, and I was foolish enough to lose my temper and retaliate. So we both suffer, for... well, my mistake. I cannot stop you from telling whoever you please about ze cause of zis altercation, but..."

"But what? Y'don't want everyone else to know what a- a snake you are?"

Spy reached up to rub his forehead, then stopped himself. He knew it was probably a mass of bruises right now. "Zat is ze obvious answer, of course. I wouldn't ask you to defend my reputation, though- ze one you should think of is Sniper. 'e is as much of a man as anyone else on zis base, and I believe it should be 'is choice to disclose, or not to disclose, ze details of zat incident. Do you think 'e wants everyone to know I fucked 'im?"

Without even thinking, Engineer took an open-handed swing at Spy's face; what would have normally been a jarring slap became a symphony of pain, and the Frenchman howled. Across the room, Medic was watching the proceeds silently. Engineer's attention was still on Spy, and he missed the faint, curious smirk on the older man's face.

"You got a point," he said, once Spy was no longer writhing in agony. "I'll leave it ta him."

A slightly hoarse voice cut into their conversation. "Oi, think it's time to patch him up? ...we can talk things over later, I'm due for a shower." It was Sniper, who was looking much better than before, aside from his dirty clothes. His hawkish gaze wandered lazily over Spy and Engineer, and lingered on the Texan for a moment. The hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "...see you in a bit, truckie."

Engineer half-turned as he heard Sniper, and stared in surprise for a moment before he could talk. "Oh- uh, of- of course! ...lookin' a lot better there, slim."

As Sniper left the infirmary, Medic turned his attention to healing the other patient. That left Engineer without the freedom to browbeat Spy as he pleased, and he suddenly realized that he was feeling very drained from the whole experience. The same room as Spy was really the last place he wanted to be right now, so he retrieved his hat and headed for the door. Before he left, though, he knew some thanks were an order.

"Doc, I'd like to thank you for your help in all this. I hope I didn't inconvenience you too much, takin' up space in here with those two." He gestured towards Spy, who was quietly waiting for his face to regain its usual shape.

Medic seemed quite cheerful, for his part. "It vas no trouble, Herr Engineer. ...if I had been conducting important work I might feel differently, but my latest project is still, hm, in its preliminary stage.

Engineer sighed. "Well, hopefully this mess is over... I tell ya, sometimes I'm surprised we don't get more fights around here. People really take your work for granted."

The doctor shrugged, his expression mild. "Ze Medi-gun takes away a lot of ze... hands-on aspects of modern medicine, but I do enjoy having less to clean up afterwards. Ha ha ha, perhaps if I vere to perform traditional surgery on those who foolishly injure zhemselves between battles, people vould be more careful." This idea must have appealed to Medic, because he seemed to still be musing about it as Engineer left.

* * *

After his rough night in the infirmary, Sniper's newfound strength was like a godsend; had he not been still filthy from the night before, he would have felt more inclined to go out hiking, or drinking, or even run laps around the parking lot. With a shower at the top of his agenda, though, he knew another way to burn off some steam and appreciate his restored health. After grabbing a clean towel that might have been his, he headed straight for one of the shower stalls, shedding clothes as he went. (Think I'll burn those ones. No good keeping around bad memories like that.) He left his boots and his belt outside the stall, set the towel down on top of them, then turned on the hot water.

A sensual groan rose up from his chest as the shower-head blasted him, the sudden rush of warmth sending thrills up his spine. He stretched out under the flowing water, rolled his shoulders, then casually urinated down the drain. Even the sensation of relief from that felt wonderful. After emptying his bladder, he hunted around the stall for something resembling soap, and found a small cake of the cheap stuff that someone else had left behind. Sniper's personal hygiene was poor by some people's standards, but even he appreciated a good washing-up. After being lathered up and rinsed, every part of his body felt considerably better. Then, in the light-headed privacy this hot shower provided, he moved on to the next item on his to-do list.

With the distraction of crippling physical pain out of the way, Sniper's mind was free to wander back to happier things. Things like the encounter in Engineer's workshop, to name an example. Even the pleasure of his own hands on his body would have been sufficient, but he had vivid memories to fuel the fire as well. As he pinched sharply at his nipples, caressed his taut stomach, drew his fingertips across his throat, he could feel the ghost of Engineer's touch. (I've gotta' take him to my van. Soon as possible. Today, even.)

Sniper leaned against the tiled wall and sighed, reaching down to fondle himself. He panted quietly as the tiles cooled his cheek; this helped keep his head from spinning amidst the steam and dizzying pleasure he was feeling. It wasn't completely uncommon for other team-members to walk in while one was masturbating in a shower stall, so Sniper took the natural precaution of doing it quietly, and behind a curtain. Anyone guileless enough to start peeping on others only had himself to blame if he saw something he would rather not have seen.

As Sniper worked on relieving his tension, he was peripherally aware of another person entering the shower room. He'd spent enough time living in close quarters with the other men that this didn't kill the mood or even distract him much, but he made sure to half-listen to the footsteps outside his stall, mostly to try and identify the other individual. Scout had a habit of throwing cupfuls of cold water over the curtain-rail of occupied stalls, just to torment the hapless person inside.

He continued feeling himself up, and idly peered through a narrow gap in the curtain. The sound of quiet humming got his attention, and his sharp eyes caught a glimpse of someone shorter and stockier than Scout. "Oh! Ah, g'day there, truckie," Sniper said a little breathlessly. "Everything quiet out there..?"

Engineer gave a quiet chuckle that hinted at more than simple mirth - he was clearly hoping to find the Australian was still in there. "Yep, seems like it. The Doc really fixed you right up, didn't he?" The sound of shuffling cloth and zippers filtered in over the rushing water.

"Yeahhh... I'm feelin' 'bout a thousand times better than before." Sniper knew they were taking a bit of a chance, but he didn't really care right now. He made no effort to hide the arousal in his voice, and leaned back against the wall under the shower-head, grinning and lazily stroking himself.

There was a quiet moment, and in his mind's eye Sniper could almost see the other man glancing furtively around the room. Then the door of a locker creaked, aluminum walls rattling as boots and clothing were shoved inside, followed by the faint patter of bare feet on tile. Next thing he knew, Engineer had slipped into the shower stall and was hastily closing the curtain behind him. Their eyes met as the American turned to look at Sniper, an expression of something between relief and longing on his face.

"Good ta see you, too," he whispered, settling his hands against Sniper's hips. The marksman's activities had not escaped his notice, and as he moved in close, Engineer's own piece began to stir against his thigh.

Sniper leaned forwards to kiss Engineer, then murmured, "I was hoping to take you t'my van later, but this'll do just fine." They embraced under the stream of hot water and writhed against each other, body to body, feeling coarse hair tease sensitive nipples, rough stubble catch together below tender, eager kisses. Sniper slid one of his hands down between them, and managed to get hold of Engineer's arousal as well as his own. He choked back a groan as the shorter man pushed him back against the wall, and thrust desperately into his fist. Stifled sighs were drowned out by the running shower, and Sniper pressed his face into Engineer's shoulder to muffle the sounds he made when he came.

Engineer smiled gently and caressed Sniper's cheek as he came down from the rush, weak-kneed and panting. "Ohhh... crikey, I needed that." He opened his eyes and looked at the other man, feeling their pulses throbbing in his hand. While he was already spent, Engineer was still rock-hard and doubtlessly aching for more attention. An impish smile twisted the corner of his mouth, and he suddenly latched onto the shorter man's throat, licking and nibbling at the soft skin. "Here, lemme take care of that for ya," he murmured, slowly sinking to his knees.

As Sniper's attention moved lower and lower on his body, Engineer bit his lip in nervous anticipation. "Dunno if I can keep quiet-" he started to whisper, then choked back a groan as he caught the lascivious expression on the marksman's face. His mind stumbled over a few calculations, and determined the probability of someone discovering them here, on a Sunday afternoon, was low enough that he shouldn't be too concerned. Sniper was completely focused on pleasuring him now, and Engineer had to grapple at the wall for support; his knees were getting shaky, and it felt like his mind was spinning from arousal and the shower's heat.

He rested his head against the tiled surface, and looked down to see that Sniper was taking his sweet time with the act, slowly running his tongue along Engineer's length as though savoring it. Sniper glanced up and smiled, moving one hand to grasp the shorter man's hip. "Don't look so nervous, mate, this's the good part. Just bite your glove if you're worried 'bout getting noisy."

A delirious little sigh was all Engineer could give, before the sharpshooter moved in to finish the job. Then he did sink his teeth into the thick rubber of his work glove, and put all his effort into standing still and not yelling. Sniper's mouth was something altogether different from anything he'd experienced before, but the sensation was thoroughly enjoyable; surrounded by wet heat, with the man's tongue flattening beneath his girth each time Sniper bobbed down on it. On some primordial level, he was tempted grab the back of his friend's head and start thrusting, but he restrained himself and let Sniper run the show. As the Australian paused to catch his breath, he panted hotly over Engineer's vulnerable flesh, and this was all it took to push him over the edge.

Engineer shuddered and jerked his hips reflexively, giving a stifled cry as he peaked. As the American blinked away the spots of light in his eyes, he saw that Sniper was still on the floor, laughing and wiping some of the semen off his face. "That good eh, truckie? ...ahhhh, I'm gettin' light-headed from all this steam..."

Given the situation, Engineer decided an apology would just make things seem awkward. He reached down to give Sniper a hand, and hugged him close as he seemed to reel from the heat. It was hard for Engineer not to laugh, too. "Alright slim, I think you better towel off before you start shrinkin' in the wash." The marksman nodded, a giddy smile on his face, then reluctantly let go of Engineer and left the shower stall.

Sniper seemed a little more sombre as he scrounged through his locker for something clean to wear. Although he felt like he should say something, Engineer didn't want to ruin the mood. He toweled himself dry in silence, watching the marksman frown dubiously at an old pair of jeans. (I really ought to ask him what he's got planned. ...damn, I don't want to discourage him from doing anything at all. Will talking about it make him second-guess himself? What if he doesn't have something severe enough in mind?) He stifled a sigh as it tried to escape him, and decided that the time for silently brooding had passed; he wasn't going to straighten anything out by worrying to himself about things.

Engineer swallowed his uncertainty, and spoke up. "What's on your mind, stretch?"

"Hm?" Sniper looked over at him, blinking in confusion, then rubbed his forehead wearily as the inquiry set in. "Oh, well... rather a lot, really. Mostly hashing out what I wanna' say to- there's a letter I've got to write, yeah? I'm sort of rehearsing it, so I don't hafta' put it to paper more than once."

"A letter?" The American was a little surprised. "This got anything to do with... y'know, things that've happened recently?"

Sniper looked pensive. "Yeah, sort of. It ain't a message to the Administrator or anything, if that's what you're wondering. ...I suppose I oughta' let you in on my plan. So you know how I'm gonna' go about gettin' things squared away with Spy, I mean. 'ere, let's get dressed and find somewhere quiet to talk about... about everything." A faint smile creased the corners of his mouth. "About you and me. Everything we've got on our minds."

* * *

The two of them sat in the privacy of Sniper's van, discussing what was to come. Engineer found it painful to leave everything with the other man; it was all he could do not to track down Spy and start the second fight in as many days. In the end, though, he had to concede that this was Sniper's responsibility alone - provided Spy didn't pull anything shady again, and agreed to provide whatever repartitions Sniper had planned for him.

"I still don't like it," Engineer said quietly, frowning at the floor. After a moment, he raised his eyes to meet Sniper's and added, "He done you wrong, there's no two ways about that."

Sniper's brow creased, and he suddenly wrapped his arms tightly around the little guy, hugging him close. "I know you don't. You don't have to, and you don't have to like him, either. But please, just try an' understand where I'm coming from. ...this is more important to me than anything 'e could have done, short of hurting you. ...she means the bleedin' world to me."

Engineer thought he saw tears lingering at the corners of his friend's eyes, and felt a sad smile cross his face, almost unexpectedly. He wrapped his arms around Sniper and petted the back of the man's neck, running his fingers through that wild chestnut hair. "...there, there. It's your choice, and whatever comes, I'll be here. I'm not gonna' turn my back on you."

He felt Sniper's grasp tighten, and the sharpshooter nodded, not yet daring to speak again. A twinge of pain gripped Engineer's heart, but he didn't let go, didn't care any less. The guilty comfort of having their emotions hidden behind dark lenses, untold secrets or misguided stoicism had left him. He had finally accepted the bittersweetness that came with loving another person.


	11. Epilogue: Messanger

( _Author's note: Some people, myself included, felt this end was a bit short; I might elaborate on it some day, but when I was working on it my mojo had been rapidly running out, and I felt it better to give it a brief ending than no ending at all._ )

* * *

It was a rare occasion that Spy was in his room to hear a knock at the door. Rarer still was an occasion on which he would answer it, but the peephole revealed the identity of his visitor, and he knew instantly that he had to admit this person. It was Sniper.

"To what do I owe ze pleasure of your company, Mssr. Mundy?" he asked, hiding any trepidation he might have felt. The marksman was inscrutable behind those yellow aviators, but a distinct scent of liquid courage hovered around him like a cloud. Spy wasn't sure if he should be worried or intrigued, and decided to settle on politely cautious.

Sniper moved into the room and shoved the door closed behind him, then approached Spy, a little too close for what most people would call comfort. His demeanor was unusually aloof, compared with the way he acted the last few times they had spoken - Spy wasn't sure if he should chalk it up to alcohol or some personal revelation. "Thought it were high time we 'ad a little talk, mate. What is it you want from me?"

"Qu'est-ce que c'est?" For a moment Spy was taken aback, mostly because it seemed like a trick question. Then his natural instincts kicked in, and he smirked faintly, leaning closer to Sniper. "Well, my answer depends on what you are 'oping for... Wishful thinking? Honesty? Or tact? I could say for example, zat I want to strip you naked and suckle at your piss-'ole until you beg to be fucked, but zat would probably fall under wishful th-"

The Australian grabbed Spy's shoulders and pushed him back against the wall, growling barbarically. It wasn't an altogether unfriendly sound, and something about that raised the hairs on the back of Spy's neck. "I reckon, seein' as we've gotten along so well, your prospects for 'aving so much as a second chance ain't looking too good, unless..."

"Unless?" Spy arched an eyebrow, doing his best to play it cool, but something was making it difficult something that was Sniper's thigh, nudging against his crotch. He couldn't hide his erection from the other man.

Sniper smirked for a split second, then stepped back from him and went deadpan. "You want trust? You're gonna' have to earn it. ...here's my demands, on paper. Might even go a way towards convincing Engineer that you're serious about makin' up for what you did."

Spy was suddenly being presented a page of the Sniper's simple, legible handwriting. He accepted it dumbly and read the words, then re-read them, feeling a wide spectrum of emotions rushing through him in quick succession. The other man stood and watched expressionlessly; Spy knew his face was betraying more than he preferred, but he'd been taken off-guard by Sniper's advances, and then by this. He opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated as the past week loomed large, and all at once Spy knew this was his only chance.

(Only? Ugh, no. Not my only chance. ...it is my best one, though.) As he regained control of his expression, Spy settled on grim acceptance - it was an accurate reflection of his true feelings, for a change, but he felt there was little he could gain by being dishonest right now.

"You're the bloody secret agent-type here, so I'll leave the fine details up to you. Got the letter written up already," Sniper drawled, feeling through his pockets for something. A pack of cigarettes, apparently.

"You expected me to agree from ze start, didn't you? Hmph." Spy glowered at Sniper, but there was resignation in his voice. He straightened his tie and assumed a more businesslike demeanor. "...very well, I will do what you ask. It will have to wait until I 'ave ze time free from work, though, ze travel alone would be... hm, taking ze time zones into consideration, three days might be enough time for such an operation." Sniper looked a bit surprised, and he felt his mouth twitch. "...I 'ave connections everywhere, Mssr. Mundy, even within ze airline industry. Zere is no place in ze world beyond my reach."

"You'll follow me instructions to a 'T'," Sniper grunted, lightning his cigarette. "You're only to speak to her, and don't do anything to draw attention to yourself. No funny business. I'll know it if you try to pull something over on me."

The masked man sighed, and rolled his eyes dramatically. "You ask me to do zis, and you're worried I might pull one over on you? 'arm your loved ones? You wound me, mon chou. ...but yes, I will do exactly as you request. No lies, no... funny business, as you put it. If ze elderly gentleman is present, I can find some 'armless way to draw 'im away from ze 'ousehold for a while. Zen, I will simply introduce myself to ze woman as what I am: a message-bearer for 'er son."


End file.
